PS 3157 
W327 




LIBRA RY OF^ CONGRE SS. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 



POETICAL WORKS 



GAY WATERS 



INCLUDING THE WICOTA. 



.-/// Rights Rfstn'txi. 









STANDARD PUBLISHING CO. PRINT. 

CINCINNATI, 



"f^S^IB 



.WiZr 



1 
1 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887, by 

GAY WATERS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congroes, at Washington, D. C. 

Ail rights reserved. 



WICOTA. 



TO 

RED CLOUD, SPOTTED TAIL AND SITTING BULL, 

CHIEFS OF THE 20,000 SIOUX. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



" Among the Sioux Indians tliere are societies, religious in char- 
acter, which are distinguished by some animal." — Flftchfr's Indian 
Cerimomes. 

Of the convert's initiation into the mysteries, llic same author 
states that after the convert has had a vision of an elk, a hawk, or a 
bear, "and after he has spoken to the old man belonging to the proper 
socitty, it becomes the duty of the youth to travel until he shall meet 
the animal he saw in his vision, when he shall slay it and preserve 
either the wiiole or a portion. This trophy becomes the visible sign of 
his vision, and is the most sacred thing he can possess." 

Should the author's deep attachment to a number of less modern 
poets have resulted in an occasional similarity of expression, he is of 
*the opinion that the more limited reader will not be led to the danger of 
showing his ignorance by push ng any unintentional similarity to the ab- 
surd charge of "hooking from some other literary feller." The Wicota, 
the longest production of this volume, \\as written to rescue from ob- 
livion one of the most original and picturesque ceremonies of the war- 
like Siou.x ; and that students of American archaeology and ethnology, 
and the American literati in general, might be awakened to a more 
tender appreciation of the magnificent historic back-ground of poetic 
and mystic lore within such easy reach. The author wishes to acknowl- 
edge his indebtedness to the trustees and the curator of Peabody 
Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, for Miss Alice C. 
Fletcher's reports concerning the ceremonies of the Omahas, Unapapa, 
Ogallala and Santee Sioux. 



CONTENTS. 

Wicota I 

The Surprise 27 

Henry Ward Beechcr 29 

The Pilot's Song 30 

Immortality 3^ 

The Anarchists' Hymn j^ 

The Muses' Offerin<j 35 

Summer 3^ 

Do n't Say 40 

The Widow's Farm 41 

Jane 50 

A Christmas Marriage 54 

The White Buffalo 57 

The Lone Tree of Banner Hill 59 

The Unfortunate 61 

Christmas 65 

The Churchyard Ciianl 67 

'I'hc Dying Toet . . 71 

A Barnyard Fable. ... 75 

To Love is not all So 

The Elder's Welcome 81 

1887 and 1888 83 

A Post Office Visitor 85 

The Voice of the Crave 88 

Thomas Carlyle 89 

Life 91 

De OV Virginny Times 92 

Robert Burns , 95 

Severed 96 

Depths 98 

An Eight Line Novelette 99 

Garfield lOO 

Ethnology ,.,......,.,,,.,.,,..,,,..,, , , lOT 



VI CONTENTS. 

The Indian Crisis 102 

A Blind Man's Triumph 103 

The Dawes Sioux Severalty IMI 106 

Dr. T. A. Bland 108 

Indians in Irons 109 

Great Chief Red Cloud's Letter ii( 

The Sioux Severalty Bill 114 

Reply to Red Cloud 1 16 

Aimee n8 

Sioux War Song ! 20 

Sioux Melodies I2I 

The Dawes Sioux Bill 128 

Toor, yet Rich 131 

The Sioux Child Funeral 132 

Taku Wakan Wokanze 134 

Cheyenne School Days 135 

Two Centuries of Woe 1 36 

Life of Red Cloud 139 

Dr. Sunderland's Strictures 145 

Col. Harkins on Dawes Rill 151 



WICOTA; 

OR, THE GREAT ELK. (SIOUX) MYSTERY. 



In token of humility, 

With moistened clay upon his brow — 
Pie sought the forest solemnly, 

To there perform his awful vow ; 
To find some dark, secluded spot, 
Where civilization has forgot 
To pry, or look, or idly peer 
At nature with a polished sneer ; 
Where flits the grim ghost of the brave- 
Where evil spirits moan and rave, 
And in the lonely, haunted dell 
Obtain the vision of the spell. 

II. 

Five days he prayed, until at length 
His tortured spirit gathered strength 
And in his slumber and his dream 
He saw the mighty vision gleam, 
And yield to memory and fame 
A chieftain's pride, a warrior's name ! 

III. 

With horns thrown back upon its neck, 
It flew athwart the plain, — a speck; 



VVICOTA. 

Then to the westward galloped on 

In rhythm to the prairie's song ; 

Then it came nearer, and he saw 

The great elk dash without a flaw 

In its proud limbs, and fly away ! away : 

Two hundred miles along one single day ! 



IV. 



It fled from out a marshy maze, 
Where silently it stood and gazed 
Around the still and dreamy world ; 
And then the torrent of its scorn it hurled 
Upon the woodland and the plain, 
Then dashed away — again ! again ! 



The long hair on its neck was wet with dew 
And arching high its limbs it lightly threw 
Itself along the low, brown grasses there, 
A thine of strength, that would not brook despair ! 

VI. 

Then woke Wicota from his dream, 
And down the yellow marl astream 
He ventured where his lodges lay 
Along the cliffs, at break of day ; 
Near where Missouri's yellow life 
Pours to Nebraska's eager strife 
The waters she has caught and flung 
Along her banks of snow and sun. 
Where in the future, towns shall rise, 
And war shake terror from her skies : 



WICOTA. 



And civilization thrive and dwell 
In lands the savag^e loved so well. 



VII. 

Wicota reached his skin-lodge door, 
And sat enchanted on the floor ! 
Then to a gaping, solemn crowd 
Spake out his miracle aloud : 

VIII. 

"Thy vision and the lovely hand — 
The daughter of this tameless band 
Our own — shall be thy great reward," 
Cried out the chief of the boundless s\vard. 
"And if thou fell the mystic elk 
Or bring the monarch here by stealth, , 
Amid our councils thou shalt reign, 
The triumph of our heart and brain ; 
And when the Pawnee from the hill, 
Bloodthirsty swoops to rape and kill 
Our maidens in the battle hour. 
Thy vision then shall yield its power, 
And by its magic they shall fall, 
A smitten race — a chaos all !" 

IX. 

"And further," quothed an holy man, 

"The sacred secrets of our clan 

Shall be thine own where'er thy teepe 

Shall wave its pennon o'er thy sleep. 

The misery of life and death — 

The thunder of the whirlwind's breath — 

The sun, and rain, and wind and cloud, 



WICOTA. 

Reveal the meaning of thy shroud; 
The down beneath the eagle's wing 
Unfold to thee some magic thing ; 
The paint upon the warrior's face 
Speak to thy mind a clearer trace 
Of solemn truths and God-like powers 
That mount above the present hours, 
And soar across the clouds of time, 
The eafrlcs of a thoutrht sublime! " 



Just then a virgin's voice was heard 
In song to float amid the word 
That fell from off the holy tongue 
Of him who spake of earth and sun : 
"Green and her v^aried shades possess 
The emblems of thy fruitfulness ; 
And white — the color of thy star, 
Is holy as the spirits are. 
Red indicates the mighty sun. 

The yellow is his beams, — 
If blue, the thunder has begun 

To rave amid its dreams." 

XI. 

Thus heard the youth, and the virgin's voice 
Determined in his heart his choice, 
As mounted he a steed which stood 
Tied to a tree-bough near the wood, 
A goodly beast, and with whose limb 
The velvet flank shone soft yet slim ; 
A narrow head, and from whose foot 
A grim and stern impatience shook, 



W I COT A. 

And pawed the prairie's loamy crust, 

And neighed and reared amid the dust 

It flung around its handsome form 

A vessel of the prairie's storm, 

The sharpness of whose make and build, 

And curve, the eye of beauty filled. 

XII. 

A plunge! — a prayer! — Wicota fled, 
A flash across the plains ahead ; 
As o'er the dew, and o'er the grass, 
And o'er the plain and the morass, 
The virgin watched Wicota fly, 
A meteor of a lower sky ! 

xirr. 

Gone! — and Wicota's form was lost, 
Far where the bright White River tossed 
Its waters on that summer's day, 
As white as any ocean's spray. 

XIV. 

Within his heart a mighty hope 
Lashed to and fro and moaned to cope 
And crush its future's prison bar 
And disappoint its evil star, 
And by its innate force subdue 
The destiny it saw in view. 

XV. 

A hope so great it would not waive 
Its purpose for a nameless grave ; 



WICOTA. 

Or love of friends or curse of foe, 
Or circumstance that ebb and flow 
About one's life and cruelly boast 
To dash us starless on a coast 
That lifts no lighthouse in a sea 
Of failure and of mystery. 

XVI. 

On westward ! — westward ! — farther far 
Than where Dakota's Bad Lands are, 
Around the river's milky stream, 
The pride of Indian ancient dream ; 
Where oft the stately buffalo 
Dashed headlong to the plain below ; 
Plunged, snorted, leaped, and madly wheeled, 
And tramped the thunder as it reeled 
A shaggy mass upon the plain. 
Whose aspect still defies a name ! 

XVII. 

The home of elk, the haunt of be^^ 
The early pioneer's despair — 
Ere civilization has began 
To change the savage to a man. 

XVIII. 

Then the first wild flash of Wicota's care 

Gloived into a deeper purpose there, 

And his mind returned, in its brooding o'di 

To the solemn things he had dreamed before ; 

And the past, with its tide of awful power 

Flung its deeds of the years on the waves of the hour ; 

And the thoughts of the vision dashed like spray 

In the caves of the memory's misty way. 



WICOTA. 
XIX. 

He held his future — as his rein 
Within his hand — to lose or gain. 

Digressionary Elks. 

Mankind he knew not — save the brave, 
Or Wakan-man — The city knave 
Who polishes his vices o'er 
Until they look like vice no more, 
And drowns his feeble moral sense 
In atheistic competence, 
And with the gambler seeks his leve' 
To vilify the poor "red devil ; "— 
Such characters had not yet lent 
A glory to his firmament. 

XX, 

And Life ?— ha ! What did he know of it? 
He had not sought to feel its bit ; 
Or guide the reins of time or man 
With sophistry as sophists can. — 
Its realm was peopled like his dream, 
With fairy shapes, that only seemed 
To float in an ever golden sky. 
Where only the eagles of grandeur fly, 
And the flowers of truth and fancy groA\ 
Where its streams and valleys trail below : 
Nor had he learned from rogues that man 
Must veil his deeds in words of sham ; — 
That even friendship must depend 
On motives of a deeper end ; — ' 
That avarice and passion yield 
More glory on the battle-field 



W I COT A 



That honor, greatness, or the praise 

That sycophants and senates raise ; — 

That churches with eternal spires — 

In villages — of maids and sires — 

Have leaders which each other hai._ 

With all the mockery of fate ; — 

That sects — like terriers — flash their teeth 

As white and pitiless beneath 

Their lolling creeds, and rend and tear 

Each other's flesh — and aged hair — 

Like cannibals — that could devour 

A maiden in an half an hour ! 



XXI 



As yet his fresh young blood could rush 
In passion to a crimson blush 
Upon his brow and on his cheek, 
As shrinking, sensitive, and meek, 
And modest as a new-born rose 
That seeks the bosom of repose 
When Evening kisses all her flowers, 
And rocks to sleep the weeping hours. 
The serpent had not taught him guile ; 
His passion still unsexed by style 
Knew nothing of the keener pain 
Of tho^e who know their love is vain ; 
Yet in imagination dwell 
On joys the passions love so well ; 
And hug the beings of their dream — 
(As mountains clasp a lovely stream) 
Within their arms — yet wake to find 
The fact a phantom of the mind ! 



WICOTA. 



XXII. 



He had not tjleaned the truths of man 

From other lands — as some men can ; 

For traveHng some regions o'er 

Adds to one's ethnologic store, 

(As opportunities occur), 

Some startling facts of character ! — 

— Till from the lives of priests that prayed 

— And from the kitchen of the maid — 

— And from the lawyer's dusty den — 

— And from the merchant's ledger pen — 

— And from the doctor's learned talk — 

— And from the politician's stalk — 

— And from the lover's anxious look — 

— And from the author with his book— 

— And from the voice of care and toil — 

— And from the ploughman of the soil — 

The thinker can and does extract 

His characters of living fact, 

And from the intermingled whole 

Learns every passion of the soul. 

Suiting the scholars in each class 

In heroes, poets and the ass ! 

Hold ! — the benefactors of the race 

Are women of the common place, — 

The mighty mass who are not known, 

Yet worthy of a monarch's throne ; 

Who fling across the marriage die 

The color of an evening's sky. 

As soft and lucent and as sweet 

As blushes are when lovers meet ; 

And kind, yet sensitive and " cute " 



lO VVICOTA. 

As music from a fairy's lute 
And laughing, buoyant, yet as true 
As seraphs who have God in view ; 
Who shrink from that which is impure 
More quickly than the vice can lure 
And in the magic of a blush 
Reveal the innocence of lust. 

XXIII. 

Had Wicota journeyed east and west, 
— America with all the rest — 
And fancied all were on a level 
From costermonger to the devil, 
He would be startled here to find 
Gradations of the human kind 
As clearly marked as any caste 
Of Hindoo — with a power to fast ; — 
Leaving the mighty city's brawl — 
New York, Chicago, or, St. Paul — • 
North, east, or south, no matter where 
So long as he could pay his fare. 

A Distinct Species. 

Let him alight in a smaller town, 

And look a week or two around, 

And meet its female aristocrat ; 

Some cross between a sharp and fiat — 

That glares adown a shapely nose 

To freeze a heart already froze ; 

First at the skating rink and hall, 

Opera house or fancy ball, 

A tee-zee, wee-see, go-between, 

Full loaded, like a magazine, 

With vitriolic airs that chill 



WiCOtA. 1 1 

Her lovely husband's suppliant will ; — 

That whimpers of her lovely "form," 

And tells the place where she was born ; 

Somewhere out east, or south, or west, 

Whatever suits the wonder best. 

Her husband's income? Fifty a week. 

Outside of what the servants eat, — 

This is not much, but 't is enough 

To gain the journalistic puff, 

And buy her spring and winter " gear," 

And add a polish to her sneer, 

And bid her saw-dust bosom heave 

Her collar-bone just where the sleeve 

Is padded with some pounds of wadding 

To keep her ancient blood from clogging ; 

As she gesticulates and smiles 

In sweet sophisticated wiles, 

And stamps her padded calves, and sighs 

Of church fairs, operas, — and pies. 

XXIV. 

If Eden's Adam was a roaring Sioux, 
Perchance his blood had hardly run so blue ; 
For blood with age turns color like the light 
Seen through the prism of the family sight. 
Wicota rode as a type — alone 

Of those a continent oppose 
To occupy a hearth and home 

In lands their fathers chose, — 
Till by the white man's heartless art, 
Were led to sign their nation's part 
To men who rend away their graves 
To build the homes of western knaves ; 



12 WICOTA. 

Then call him " savage " till they get 

The lands for which their passions fret, 

Then kiss with Judas lips — and damn 

In song the undeplored red man. 

A red man with a stern and mighty heart, 

That never knew the shivering chill of art; 

With mind that loves, but never cowers. 

Its blighted, undeveloped powers. 

E'en in the Sun Dance, when his flesh 

Gapes bloody in the ropen mesh — 

As superstition claims with pride 

Endurance as his lawful bride. 

Think ye the wide soil of this western world 

Is worth Wicota's soul with mind unfurled 

In thought to live amid immortal day 

When age dissolves this continent of cla}- ? 

Or hurls it back in mockery to the hour 

When first it felt the throes of human power ? 

XXV. 

Words snap like cords beneath the giant skill 
Of Avarice when tortured by a will ; 
And Mammon sells a nation with a pen. 
And dips the pen to sign the deed again, 
Ere man can strike one quick, united blow 
To lay the blood-bedabbled monster low ! 

XXVI. 

Ah ! The words of the poor are as weak as the rain 

That beateth the cheek of the window pane, 

And they run down in tears, and they run down ir 

blood, 
And Pride stamps them in with her foot in the mud 



WICOTA. 13 

XXVII. 

Great are the nation's poverties 

Whose mighty shapes though sunk in mysteries 

So oft arise to fill the world with awe, 

Proving the weakness of the greater law, — 

As serpent forms (seen from some vessel's edge 

Once in a century, as sailors pledge) — 

Creep slow — with streaming hair, fins, eyes that 
know no sleep. 

And horrid head — up silent from the deep — 
B arcing a dead face on the dreadful wave. 
And moaning peeans of a madman' s grave ! 

Then glide a mile in mid-air, crushing the shrieking 
ship ; 

And sink, a legend in the ocean's lip. 

I have seen nations strangled by such men. 

And ere I die may see the like again 

XXVIII. 

The day was gone and the angels threw 

Each waiting flower its evening dew ; 

The night breeze lifting his courser's mane 

Sang its lullaby again ; 

The tall oaks in the forest near 

Stood black as sentinels of fear. 

The golden streak in the twilight sky 

Was pierced by a star of silver dye ; 

Far o 'er the mountains in the west 

Float the dying sound of the world's unrest ; 

From the nearer v^alley athwart the hill 

The note of the plaintive whip-poor-will; 

Birds tired of love and tired of singing 

To roosting-boughs are homeward winging; 



14 W I COT A. 

Care sleeps with his head in his skinny hand 
And darkness walks on the sea and the land. 
Then the round face of a pale young moon 
Sreniled into the night and into the gloom ; 
From her forehead lucent and softly fair 
A star had pinned back her flowing hair, 
As onward through thicket and shadow bent,. 
Wicota still westward, westward went — 
The color of the prairie's sheen 
All fading to a paler green ; 
The foliage of the forest trees 
Dazzling moonlight on their leaves. 
Away through the wastes of gloomy pine, 
That mock the ravages of time, — 
The rustling wolf and bird of night 
Scattering curses in their flight, 
Followed upon Wicota's track, 

And howled a fierce defiance back, — 
Yet his hopes grew stronger and became 
The shadow of a future name ; 

As imagined praise rolled o'er his soul 

And exercised its high control 

Over his thoughts and purposed deeds, 

As rivers bend their tallest reeds 

In the waves that are rushing in galloping ranks 

On the verdant slopes of their native banks. 

For an hour he slept at the foot of a tree 

Lonely and sacred and solitary ; 

At the gray dawn he pursued his way 

Solemnly into the hours of day ; — 

Into the deepest solitudes 

Of nature in her wilder moods ; — 

Scarce a sign of life along his path, 



WICOTA. 

S<ive a rended oak of the cyclone's wrath , 

Which dashed on its splints a smitten bird, 

Voiceless and dumb as a silenced word. 

The deep ravines now overhead 

Their clasping trees in branches spread, 

And turned the first hours of the light 

Into a synonym of night. 

The mighty forest hemmed him in 

Its silence and its wondering ; 

Till all was death-like — deader still 

Than infamy without a will — 

Or graves of mortals, gone, condemned 

Their immortality to spend ! 

He reached a rugged mountain side, 

A place so wild that nature hides 

Her face in herbage still untramped 

By foot of beast or sign of camp. 

A wilder place was never seen 

In any mountainous ravine ; — 

For even silence deeper grew — 

And o'er the loneliness still threw 

A something that was more than awe 

Or justice unexplained by law! 

Above, the mountain's lofty height 

Rose through its canopy of light ; 

Then staying his hand upon the rein 

In awe he viewed the scene again — 

As feelings of an unknown power 

And weird grandeur smote the hour 

With dread of something — vast — unknown — 

Which all hearts feel when left alone 

To gaze the first in Nature's face 

And reverently blush to trace 



l6 WICOTA 

The awful lesson she can teach 

With majesty beyond the reacn 

Of hero's skill — or martyr's ken. 

Or poet's song, or demon's pen — 

He sat upon his steed transfixed 

His deep thoughts strangely intermixed. 

His head dropped to his heaving chest 

Unconscious as a bird's at rest ; 

As something like a human sound 

Faintly, softly, rose and wound 

Through the stillness of the glen 

And rose and died away again ! — 

He started! — Now 'twas more distinct — 

Each sound stole softly link by link 

Low and sweet and moved along 

In clearest melodies of song. 

Astonished — awed — he listened there 

In mute and undisguised despair ; 

Then peered around to see from whence 

Came the sound to his duller sense, 

"The oaks are dumb and never speak 

Or sing a song so sweetly meek — 

And the storms of a mountain cannot command 

The notes of a song so gently grand." 

Thus — thus — he mused — as turning round, 

He saw a cifcular spot of ground, 

With every vestige of grassy strand 

Stripped away by an unseen hand; 

And in the center of the plot — 

A plant — by inystoy begot — 

Bearing a blue and simple flower^ 

The offspring of a siomner hour — 



WICOTA. 17 



Was gracefully szvaying to and fro, 
SingtJig the song of the Siibbea /* 

The Song of the Subbea. 

"Spirits, — thou canst not see around, 

Curse thee with fearful harm, 
Yet crc thou reach yon hunting-ground 

Their spell shall lose its charm. 
Within the copse on yonder hill, 

Sleeps now the mystic elk ; 
Go ! — slay the monarch and distil 

The spell for which you knelt. 
Yju herd of mighty buffalo 

I gather on the plain ; — 
I bring the mighty eagle low 

Upon the earth again. 
The demons of the great four winds 

Encircle earth and sky, 
Yet gather here at my command 

When I am passing by. 
I send the demon of the storm 

To cities in my wrath ; 
I guide the lightning's chariot wheel 

Across the forest path ; 
Tiic shadows of the setting sui 

Obey me in their flight ; 
I crown the Queen of morning 

With a diadem of light. 
Though spirit shades now moan and rave 

Around thy future still. 
My superhuman aid shall thwart 

The anger of their will." 

"The myth of the Siibbea is of Mmcogec Indian origin. 



1 8 WICOTA. 

The voice was still — as melts a note 

Within a laughing echo's throat ; 

The flower was gone — and in its place 

The grass wav^ed high, witli not a trace 

Of that which chained his heart and -eye 

In song of awe«and mystery! 

As a mortal in a dream 

Oft awakens in a scream ; 

Or is startled by a voice 

Uttered without will or choice, 

And recounts his dreaming o'er, 

In the thoughts that went before ; 

Rubbing terror from his eyes, 

In a daze of mute surprise. 

Thus Wicota woke at length 

And his senses gained their strength, 

As he tied his steed and crept 

Where the mystic elk now slept, 

Lying in the grasses still, 

In the copse on yonder hill. 

XXIX. 

The hill was reached — its copse of brown 

Lay on its brow a ragged frown, 

As steadily now crawled along 

Wicota from the place of song. 

As a serpent in the grass, 

Who waits the kingly lion pass. 

Then with a glide and sudden spring 

Darts the death-bite of its sting ; 

The elk slept on, nor dreamt there lay 

An enemy so close at bay. 

His body (in the curling leaves 



WICOTA. 19 

Which sprinc:^ had shaken from the trees) 
Stretched with its great head to the wind 
To drink the sounds of danger in, 
Much as a hoary sailor sleeps, 
With one ear opened to the deeps 
To catch the warning sounds that rise 
From tropical or northern skies, 
Till in his dreams he can detect 
The symptoms of a coming wreck 

XXX. 

Near the great elk's sleeping life — 

'Mid the foliage flashed — a knife ! 

The blade plunged deep to its deadly hilt; 

The prairie monarch's blood now spilt 

Spurts far from his neck in a spouting stream 

And splashes the leaves of the trees between ; 

As he rolls, and lifts his despairing eye 

To a mountain sun and a smiling sky, 

And moaning in prayer quickly reels up again, 

With the foam on his lip and the blood on the mane, 

And a shrub tangled in, 'mid the curve of his horn, 

And the knife in his neck, and the leaves on his form. 

And an ebbing pulse, and a broken rest. 

And a m-assive trunk, and a throbbing breast, 

And a death in his veins, and a terror that shook, 

And a maddened plunge and a pitiful look. 

Till at last a fierce moan and a snort — 

And a swifter leap like a lightning fork — 

And a deeper groan and a wilder plunge 

In the forest air — then a weaker lunge 

And he dropped as thousands of men shall fall, 

And zvithout a name and ivithout a pall. 



20 WICOTA. 

XXXI. 

A shout ! — And young Wicota scalped 

The antlers of the slaughtered elk ; 

Then through the copse a few rods pushed 

To a low bullberry bush, 

And plucked its sacred '•' berries there ; 

As intermingled in his prayer 

The Subbea's voice, the elk's death-leap, 

A virgin's face, a lovely teepe, 

A chieftain's praise — a Sioux's deep pride, 

An Indian's dream, a heathen's guide. 

He gazed upon the elk's dead form : 

Its limbs lay still, — its blood oozed warm ; 

Its pitying look and unclosed eyes 

Gazed into Nature's paradise — 

As if it saw athwart the hill 

Morn, noon, and lifetime floating still 

Across the melancholy plain — 

Like show'ring sunbeams kissing rain, 

Reflecting in their shining hues 

The milder mercy men refuse ! 

XXXII. 

The camp awoke — the morn was bright. 
Day had pushed back the stars of night, 
And here and there athwart the sky 
A white cloud floated silently. 
Long ere that hour Wicota woke 
Each member of the elk-lodge folk, 
And told his ride, and told his speed, 
The Subbea's song, the sacred deed, 

■"Sacred to the Sioux myr.teries, 



WICOTA. 2 1 



And showed the anlers he had brought 
From off the prairie's Juggernaut! 

XXXIII. 

Hark to the women's solemn tramp, 
As westward of the river's camp 
They raise the elk-tent to the air, 
And leave the solemn emblem there ; 
Around its roof four blue bands shone 
In circles on the sacred dome. 
Its door faced eastward to the sun, 
And o'er the entrance Art had flung 
The blood- red painting of an elk, 
Through whose body passed and knelt 
The holy — to the awful tent 
Which mystery in mercy bent 
Beneath her overhanging skies 
To hear her children's sacrifice. 

XXXIV. 

"The offspring of a planet doomed, 
Three children of a common womb — 
A trinity, as prayeth some. 
Earth, elk, and buffalo, are one. 
Red man ! red man ! whisper low — 
Earth ! earth ! may tell the buffalo !" 

XXXV. 

The chant was faint, the voiceful swell 
Through the great tent sadly fell — 
As passing in, Wicota knelt 
Within the tent-door of the elk ; 



22 WICOTA. 

Then tied upon the sacred pole 
An offering for a troubled soul. 

XXXVI. 

TJie ' ' U-nia-ne, ' ' or Symbol of the Four Winds. 
His eye rolled o'er the solemn spell 
Which superstition planned so well ; — 
An oblong space of mellow earth, 
Such as might have given birth 
To a score of garden plants, 
Smiling in their summer ranks ; 
On the earth a live coal burned, 
And the sweet grass smoldering turned 
Whilst beside it, sacred food 
Lay in urns of sacred wood. 
Sprays of artemesia sat 
Closely woven in a mat, 
And a mirror, with a cross 
Flashed the daylight like the fros 
A dish of holy water stood. 
Containing dark leaves from the wood 
Near, four virgins, clad in green, 
Chanting the ritual of the scene. 

*' There are four colors to the sight 

Of those who watch their vision's flight 
The blue cloud when the thunder peals 
The red cloud when the sunset reels, 

The yellow cloud of morn, — 
A.nd white clouds which at noon appear, 
And twilight skies are born." 

Around the circle of the tent 

The members of the elk-lodgc leant , 



WICOTA. 23 

With masks resembling heads of elk, 
And boughs for antlers, whilst for e\'es, 
Circular mirrors flashed surprise. 
The men were naked — save a breech — 
And painted with a vision each 
Upon the bade, in colors drawn ; 
As varied as a sky at dawn ; 
And each man by a god's decision, 
Wore the color of his vision ; 
And oft a stillness fell on all, 
As those who gazed upon the pall 
Of one they love — but turned to clay- 
Within the sunset of a day, 
Ere the soul has time to pray ! 
The incense floating from the stems 
Of sacred pipes, — and holy men 
Filled the solemn tent with awe 
And odorous clouds. Anon they saw 
The clouds re-shape themselves and fly 
In spirit form distinctly by. 
As echo hymns in worship fell 
I'^om virgin lips he loved so well 

7'/ie IVakan-niajis, or Pries fs Jncantation. 

" Ye demons of the great four storms 

Who in the thunder whirl. 
Appear ! — and bend your awful forms 

Before the spell I hurl ! 
The raven and the small black stone. 

The symbol of your might. 
Are here, and in the flames are thrown 

To s'ay you in your flight! 



24 WICOTA. 

Each solemn star and mountain rock 

Were figured in my plan 
Ere the new world felt the shock — 

The prairie's caravan ! 
By living charm, and painted dead, 

And eagle's feathered spell 
Appear ! — and to us now proclaim 

The magic of your Hell !" 

[A falcon flies out of the ii-iua-ne, flutters, a)id a voice 
chants :) 

"I have flown from the Rockies 

To answer thy voice ; 
Though the eagle is mocking 

The flight of my choice. 
I have left in the mountain 

The bones of my prey. 
And outsoared the lightning, 

Thy voice to obey." 

{A grizzly bear is heard groivling, and anotJiei voice 

sings .•) 

"The Sioux is great — the Sioux is strong — 
P'uU twenty thousand souls belong 

To the Sioux of the brook and the Sioux of the rain — 
To the Sioux of the leaf, and the Sioux of the plain ; — 
Rut the might of their freedom shall dry as a stream, 
And the breath of their glory shall pass as a dream. 
And the buffalo's stamping shall echo no more, 
Where the steeds of thy warriors have galloped before ; 
And the trail of thy forests shall float in the flood 
Of a curse and a woe that is redder than blood ! 



WICOTA. 25 

And thy graves shall be rifled — thy beasts shall be 

slain, 
And thy altars be scattered in chaos again !" 

{A viper struggles momentarily in the u-ma ne, and disap- 
pears. ) 
*' Beware! Oh, beware! 

The future for thee 
Hath death and despair 

In its mystery ! 
The life-loom of man 

Still weaves in its web 
The hate of its span 

With the curse of the dead ! 
A skeleton hand 

Shall smite thee a blow, 
But none understand 

The cause of thy woe. 
The demon of Greed 

Still fasten its fang, 
And Cruelty feed 

On the tears of the damned. 
An invisible dagger 

Shall pierce through thy soul, 
And Justice siiall stagger 

Beyond thy control. 
A stiffened corpse shaking 

The blood from its hair 
Terror shall waken 

A world of despair !" 

( Wicota trembles in fear, and the four viigins sing i) 
"Thou hast heard the mystic voices 
Of the spirits of the air, 



26 WICOTA. 

And thine enemy rejoices 

At the depth of thy despair ; 
But before yon sun shall lengthen 

In his shadow on the hill, 
The grave shall help thee strengthen 

Deep the purpose of thy will ! 
Like as we move out to the sun 

And skim the valley o'er, 
Thy deeper life shall have begun 

To leave its native shore." 

(The virgins slowly pass out of the tent to the val- 
ley to the north, bearing incense pipes, followed by 
the "Elks" with masks and antlers, Wicota bringing 
up the rear, flashing a large circular mirror to the sun. 
The company glide up the valley in silent leaps 
and crouchings, and returning to the elk-tent, the cer- 
emony closes with the following :) 

Sioux Song. 

Lost are the fields where the buffalo's lowing 

Sweeps through the twilight and breaks through the 
night ; 

Lost are our homes, for the stranger is growing 

In strength, and our prairies are crushed in his might. 

Lost are the elk and the pride of dominion 

That rolled from the lakes to the ridge of the world ; 

For the stranger has entered — the great Sioux's opinion 
Is lost in the chaos that Anarchy hurled. 

Lost are the scenes where the papoose lay playing, 
Where love laughed and whistled her amorous song; 

Lost are the brooks where the ponies are neighing, 
For l\i<Tht has been crushed by the terror of Wrong! 



THE SURPRISE. 

Th' nig^ht was a kind o' sleetin', an' the wind howled 

kind o' faint, 
An* the ghost of the long gone summer wailed with a 

sad complaint 
As our preacher lay a' readin' with his specs upon his 

nose, 
Fur his wife 'ad gone to bed, and kivered with th' 

clothes. 

Th' fire still a kin' o' tunefu', roared in the open 

stove. 
As he stretched his legs on the sofy, and his eyes on 

the paper roved, 
"Still more on the labor question," he said, as he laid 

down the open sheet, 
"The struggles of life ar' hard, an' th' times ez hard 

to beat ; 

"The natur' of man ez fickle, an' some people don t 

seem to keer 
A straw, ez long ez tliey git thar fill about what 's over 

there ; 
Still there isn't much use o' repinin'," he said in a 

weary way, 
"The work one does for the morrer' shouldn't be 

counted to-day." 



28 THE SURPRISE. 

Jest then, ez his mind was glidin' on, an' his thoui^hts 
grew kinder low, 

An' the wind in the joining tree-tops was singin' pain- 
ful slow, 

Thar' came a rushin' o' footsteps, an' the door was 
opened wide, 

And a crowd o' the citizens floated in, on the dark 
night's sable tide. 

"Who's dead? Who's hurt? A caoin on nre/ ne 

stuttered all of a breath. 
As a chill passed over his pick'cd cheek, like a sigh from 

the land of death. 
An' then they all roared out laughin', and a brother 

made him a speech, 
An' piled him up chicken an' such like an' ioke'^ till 

he couldn't have preached. 

He tried to thank 'em agin fur thar kmaness, but nis 

words stuck fast and sharp, 
"My feelings speaks more than my words," he said, 

"as the music is more than the harp. 
Now I know that the flowers by the wayside, ar' ez 

pretty ez those in th' yard, 
Though the borders do n't look half as pleasant, an' 

their life ez a kin' o' hard." 



HENRY WARD BEECHKR. 

Gone! — and Liberty hath lost 
The firm voice of her friend 

And brother, who in anger tossed 
A spirit that could bend ! 

Gone ! — as the dogma of the fool 
He broke across his knee ; — 

Who flung a world of common sense 
O'er Christian mystery ! 

Gone ! — as the mighty all must go, 
Who voice the distant hum 

Of coming time — now age is slov/ 
And orthodoxy dumb! 

Gone — and America shall place, 
Adown her coming years, 

The memory of him who traced 
Her struggles in his tears. 



•t>j3' 



Gone I — where winds in winter rave 
A requiem o'er his sleep — 

Gone ! — as rivers roll their waves 
Into a deeper deep ! 



39 



THE PILOT'S SONG. 

Hold the wheel ! The storm has risen. Hark ! another 

fearful crash 
Snnites the oaks along the shore, and lights the forest 

with its flash ! 
Hold the wheel ! The current strengthens, and the 

staggering billows pour 
Fast around her dripping withers with a grand enr>- 

battled roar. 

Hold the wheel! The waves are gaping! slack the 
tempest of her speed. 

How the angry waters glare around the fetlocks of the 
steed ! 

How she shudders as she flies along the field of pour- 
ing rain, 

Wildly champeth at the bit and groans along the rocky 
chain. ' 

Hold the wheel ! still danger threatens ; yonder curve 

upon the .wave 
Points where the ship Grey Eagle met the furies of the 

grave ; 
Points where the life-strung nerves of men broke 'neath 

the plunging shock 

That hurled the bride of young Le Claire upon the 

fearful rock. 
30 



THE PILOTS SONG. 3 I 

Hold the wheel! The future beckons 1 See those 

stretchers in the cloud 
That droop along" the vistas like the fringings of a 

shroud ; 
Hold the wheel ! For they are tokens — they are signs 

along that shore 
Where the pilot's hand of hope shall hold the silent 

wheel no more ! 



IMMORTALITY. 

Away ! And o'er the beaten march 

And struggles of the past 

To gaze ! To watch again the farce 

or charms that gild the past 

Demand of youthful days, and bid 

Identity leap from the hid 

Ashes of memorable days 

To the music of forgotten praise ! 

Away ! I watch the rivers fling 

Their pebbles on the crest 

Of ocean ! and hear the storm sing 

Its anthem, as it wrests 

Beauty out of chaos and moulds — 

Out of decaying hills, and the cold 

Graves of men — continents that rise 

In readjusted glory to the skies. 

Away! We all shall live agaii 

For all life reappears 

To flash in brighter structure than 

In the first forms of the years 

Of Time ! The diamond flashing now 

Upon the tabulated brow 

Of monarch, lived in some dimmer day 

A plant. Why not the spirit soar away! away! 



THE ANARCHISTS' HYMN. 

The flame of destruction is kindled, 

The wild shriek of terror is there ; 
A banquet of blood and of murder, 

A mingling of wrath and despair. 
Ha ! ha ! how the classes are flying ; 

Make each hearthstone a sign for the dead ! 
For the dream of the classes is melting ; 

"Give us blood, or the price of their bread!" 

Cursed were the past generations — 

Ha ! Our fathers now^ dumb in their dreams 
Were cursed, as the type they have left us, 

Of things that only now seemed 
To exist in the chain of dominion — 

The slavery of brain and of limb. 
Let us strike ! for the curse is still on us : 

** Give us blood ! Let it flow red and dim !" 

Doomed are the hopes of the millions, 

That pant round the tread-mills of toil — 
Doomed is the struggle of youth 

As it mounts to its own shining goal — 
Doomed are the homes of the wage-men, 

That build up the altars of wealth. 
For the war-whoop of anarchy gathers : 

"Give us blood, or its value in pelf!" 

33 



34 THE ANARCHISTS IIVMX. 

Down with the classes above us ! 

Down with tlieir triumphs of fate ! 
Bid rapine and cruelty conquer — 

Let slip the blood-hounds of fate; 
Tear down the temples of order, 

Raze all the broad fields of grain ; 
Give us blood as the price of our thralldom- 

Let chaos and anarchy reign ! 



THE MUSES' OFFERING. 

ODE ON THE DEATH OF GEN. JOHN A. LOGAN. 

When the Voice of victory spoke, 
Bearing freedom with the stroke, 
Foremost in the carnage then 
Swept the hosts of Northern men. 
Dying 'mid the cannon's roar, 
Blood and shot and crimson gore ; 
O'er the smoke and o'er the din, 
Through the ranks now growing thin, 
There was heard the rush of wings 
With the noise that freedom brings. 
There amid the sulphurous air 
We saw the one — Jack Logan — there ! 
Soaring over thrones and poised 
The eagle of our Illinois ! 

When swept that human avalanche, 
With the ligntning in its glance 
That rent the hosts of war asunder 
And set the struggling negro free 
'Mid shouts of hungry victory! 
Ah ! ere 't was done, or ere began, 
M^n heard the trumpet name — Logan ! 

Star of Illinois ! mighty man ! 
The memory of fame 



36 THE muses' offering. 

Hath bo;ne toward the nation's van 

The magic of thy name ! 

Dream on, great warrior ; may thy sleep 

Be sweet with peace as the deep, 

Deep voice of the repubUc's fling 

New meanings around the name of king ! 

Who is a king? The titled fool, 

Who in the gilded palaces becomes the tool 

Of crowns and feudal pomps ? 

Nay ! nay ! he is the king 

Who helpeth to bring 

Others beneath the mutual sway 

Of freedom's imperial day ! 

Our "Jack " was a king 

And crowned with more 

Than monarchies can give 

With all their boasted store 

Of caste and class, 

And the down-trod mass 

Of labor — as it ebbs and flows 

For the moaning of the people's woes ! 

Ah ! warrior brave ! as time shall fling 

Its fingers o'er thy name, 

And with the generations sing 

The greatness of thy fame ! 

Afric' shall Aveep in tribute's tear 

Above thy sadly shaded bier. 

And say — thou hast not lived in vain ! 

Warrior and soldier meet, 
Dumb in the silent street, 



THE MUSES OFFERIKG. 3/ 



Hushing the tramp of feet, 
Muffling the drum's low beat — 
To bury the chief. 

Into the silent earth, 
Lay ye the soldier deep ; 
Silence the lips ©f mirth, 
Great men have come to weep, 
And bury their chief. 



SUMMER. 

She comes ! I saw her flashing eye 

Gleam on the saddened worlds, 

That roll in giddy life and die 

With other things ! all hurled 

Into the great unknown — that sweeps 

O'er the unfathomable deeps 

Of time and ages — and the questioned birth 

Of all that glitters on the beauteous earth 1 

She comes ! — and to the varied sound! 

Of woodland minstrelsy, 

Her magic footstep leaps the bounds 

Of rosy hills in ecstacy ! ' 

And thus — forgetting all that seems to be 

Of grief — she only seems to see' 

The waywardness of life, and not the day — 

Of downward motion of the things that are of clay ! 

She comes ! — I saw her wildly quaff 

Tlie crystal of the rills ! — 

I heard her silver breaking laugl 

Ring down the enviable hills 

Of eve and morn — that daily lean — 

And in their eternal silence seem 

Asleep, within the burdened arms 

Of Time — the healer of all harms ! 

3« 



st)«niER. 39 



She comes ! — I saw her spangled dress 

Of emerald that swept 

Across the empires ! — the nakedness 

Of trees and meads — that wept 

For broidered robes — she clad — 

And then she watched the i^irdled earth 

Grow drunken with her wines of mirih. 



DON'T SAY. 

Do n't say that life is a mockery still — 

For women make half the joys 
Of our hopes — when the heart hath felt its fill 

Of Ambition's empty toys ! 

Do n't say that the hearts of all are cold 

As the ice on the river there — 
Or the snow-drift, with its whitened face, 

That gleams in the wintry air ! 

But say that the deepest rest — is a heart, 
That can feel your sorrows its own ; 

And count in each tear that falls a part 
Of the pitiless unknown 1 



THE WIDOW'S FARM. 

PART I. 

A Carltonian Quadrille. 

Drot hang that off mule ! Johnny, just pick me up the 

Hne, 
For we ought to plough to the hedge and back afore 

it 's dinner time ; 
Yer mind the Widow Green said that when she passed 

this way 
She 'd stay and take her dinner, while her hosses took 

some hay. 

Just hitch that near mule, Johnny — yer mother 's been 

dead a year. 
And we 've worn a band to meetin', whar we both wept 

over her bier ; 
I swan, the time drags slow, Johnny ; the sun it ain't 

past ten, 
And I 've thought a heap of your prospects and the 

Widow Green since then. 

Yer say you ain't stuck on the Widow, and that she 's 

a' kind o' proud — 
Just fling that rock near the fence, Johnny, and do n't 

be so cussed loud, 
And think of the schoolin' I gave yer, and shut yer 

confounded mouth ; 



42 THE WIDOW S FARM. 

And think of the jeans I bought yer about the Mine o' 
the drouth. 

Ver know that I loved yer mother, and I 've done a 

good part by you, 
And all that I ask of you, Johnny, ez to be always 

honest and true ; 
Yer need n't look down in the mouth, Johnny, ir>v on 

me yer can always depend, 
Till the mules kick out of their harness, an'i scatter 

thar' latter end. 

I saw the Widder at meetin', Johnny; she said that 

she liked yer looks, 
And tol' me to ask yer pertickler ef yer needed some 

readin' books. 
I told her yer mind needed trainin', and that ef she 

could ever call 'round, 
Maybe yer could fix it together, and both go over the 

ground. 

Yer 'ad better look out for the mules, Johnny ; the 

plow hits 'em hard in spots, 
And a mule that does nothin' but plungin', never gits 

over the rocks. 
I think that yer '11 like the Widow, she 's so much like 

yer mother that 's dead ; 
You remember you whispered in meetin* you war gone 

on the p'ints of her head. • 

Yer say that she has n't got nothin' ? — why she 's 

worth a purty sized farm. 
And her out-houses all are improvin', for I noticed ^^e\v 

boards on her barn ; 



THE WIDOW S FARM. 43 

She 's lifted the mortgage, the sheriff once said, that 

war' on her old lands. 
And she must keep a leetle spare money, for she 

always works plenty o' hands. 

I was a-goin' to town one mornin', and I noticed 
a bunch of her steers 

That her help was a-drivin' afore 'em, a-holdin' thar 
hands to thar ears ; 

For a blizzard was blovvin' that mornin', and the ice on 
the ponds were as thick 

Ez that mule — or, rather, its tail, just when it 's steer- 
in' to kick. 

Just look across to the house, Johnny, and see if her 

bosses ez tied — 
Since the rheumatiz got in my shoulder, it makes me a 

trifle weak-eyed. 
I tried on her specs last Sunday, to see how the thinp^ 

would look. 
And sat on the sofy beside her, and both looked over 

one book. 

Ver say that her bosses ez hitched, Johnny, and her 

buggy in front of the door ; 
Wall, yer 'd better unhitch the mules, sonny, for my 

limbs feel a little bit sore ; 
And I want yer to go in to market, and buy yer a hat 

down in town. 
For a boy that 's as clever as you arc, ought to be 

wearin' a crown. 



44 THE WIDOWS FARM. 

''Balance All T 

And this ain't Elder Haystack that 's a passin' 'roun' 

this way ? 
Wall, I 'm glad again to meet yer — and you spoke of 

that back pay. 
My Johnny saw yer hoss hitched when ploughin' in 

the lot — 
And he 's drove to town your sorrel, just to see if it 

could trot. 

About that card you writ' me, and your last year's 

preachin' bill, 
I ain't so sure the church has got the dollars in its 

till. 
The Widow Green is a member, and I heard her stand 

and say 
That the preach' was worth the money, and you 

ought to get your pay. 

But thar 's another thing here, Elder : I hear that 

you 've lost your wife ; 
It 's hard to lose a workin' one, when you marry one 

for life — 
'Specially when the crops ez good, and thar 's niggers 

and hands to feed. 
And hired help can 't be had for cash, and white gals 

want to leave. 

I 've sat and thought about it as I punched the chim- 
ney fire. 

And watched the back- log fling its flame a little trifle 
higher, 



THE WIDOW S FARM. 4.5 

Till I wondered if I could n't start the whole thing up 

again, 
And make a proposition to a widder I could name 

"Thy Widow !" thought the Elder, as his face grew 

sudden pale, 
* ' When yer bait to catch a widow, always bait to catch 

a whale ; 
I '11 have to lose the Widow soon, or get my farmer 

friend 
To jump some other broomstick, while I hold to 

t' other end." 

"Though just how far the Widow has made up her 

heart and mind 
Is hard to tell, if she 's like the rest o' the marryin' 

womankind ; 
If I could only catch the Widow and my neighbor's 

fee as well, 
And hitching the thing together ; why — they both 

could work a spell. " 

"Your life gits a sort of lonesome," said the elder, 

speakin' loud — 
"Yet a man without a woman is a sky without a 

cloud ; 
And, as I said at meetin', in speakin' about this 

thing, 
The bee that gets the honey has got the strongest 

sting ; 

And the ancient verse in the Scriptur' that speaks of 
Uving alone 



46 THE widow's farm. 

Says nothing about the Hccnse or the cost of a furnished 
home ; 

And when you come down to the figures, and fully con- 
sider the cost, 

It 's as well to figure the discount in the cash that 's 
always lost." 

" I reckon that 's so," thought the farmer, as he looked 

upon the floor, 
•' But I wish I could see the Widow a comin* in at the 

door; 
And somehow or other my feelin's gets as awkward to 

handle and drive 
As a colt that gets loose in a pasture and does n't know 

how to thrive. 

But speaking about the subscription," said the farmer 

to the man, 
** I reckon the church 'ill do its best to pay the debt as 

it can ; 
John has paid his own subscription, and I have more 

than paid my part, 
So you 'd better call in at the deacon's, for he 's got the 

account by heart. 

** Maybe along in a month or so I '11 have something for 

you to do. 
For in makin' my calculations I have kept the Widow 

in view ; 
And if I succeed in hitchin' the mare to the family 

shaff, 
I '11 pay yer well for yer trouble and the church's debt 

by half." 



THE WIDOWS FARM. 47 

PART II. 

^'Change YoaJi Pardtioahs !'* 
John Brush ez the name that I go by, and I live down 

thar on the branch, 
7\nd how much ez the hcense. Mister, for I hear you 're 

the clerk o' the ranch. 
That hoss out thar ez the elder's, and I 've trotted him 

in pretty keen, 
For this woman I 'v^e got here with me ez known as the 

Widder Green. 

I called at her house near the crossin', and brought her 

along with me, 
'Cause the matter we 're goin to settle, ez a thing that 

we both must agree ; 
Thar 's a difference o' nineteen years or more between 

her age and mine, 
'Cause I 'm but just turned twenty and she 's gone 

thirty-nine. 

Father and her has been writin', and she 's showed me 

the letters, too, 
And the letters of Elder Haystack and the p'ints that 

he had in view ; 
And this mornin' when we were ploughin' the off mule 

in the field, 
I argeed the p'int with my father, but I found that he 

would n't yield. 

And as we can 't fix it exactly, I reckoned to let it 

bile— 
So I left the elder and father a talkin' the matter 

awhile, 



48 THE widow's farm. 

And I drove into town with the Widder to settle the 

matter to-day, 
And git yer to issue the license and marry us right 

away. 

For things they ain't been goin' the pleasantest kind at 
home, 

And I feel that a boy at twenty oughtened to fool and 
roam ; 

And father is still in the notion that a boy at twenty- 
one 

Is bound to do the chores and sech, and finish as he 
begun. 

So, just pile on the questions, Mister, and ask if we Ml 

'• obey," 
For I reckon that after it 's over we both can 't have 

our way ; 
And what I now lack in gumption the Widder makes 

up in years. 
And, as she's traveled the ground before, thar ain't 

much use for tears. 

And if misfortune strikes us, why, yer see, she 's solid 

built, 
And can play the parlor organ just as well as she can 

milk; 
And, take it altogether, I believe I 've ketched a prize — 
For the blanks some people seem to draw have made 

me kind o' wise. 

"Let's get the matter settled, John!" the Widow 
cried, turning 'round ; 



THE WIDOW S FARM. 49 

"We can talk when the thing is over and we 're drivin' 

out of town ; 
You have got the elder's horse, you know, and the 

'squire don't want to hear, 
And if you keep the sorrel long, they '11 think it a kind 

o' queer." 

Then the 'squire he wrote 'em the license, and they 

both stood on the floor — 
John against the window and the Widow against the 

door. 
" Ar' yer willin' to take this partner for to be yer 

wedded wife ?" 
"You bet I am," said John, aloud ; "and I '11 stick to 

her for life." 
' An' you '11 promise to do the same by him ?" asked 

the 'squire, above his spec's. 
"Yes, I'll do the same, God help me, sir, until 1 

buries the nexV^ 



JANE. 

The sky swings blue in the lieavens, 
Yet silvers near to the rim ; 

The brooklet sings to the meadows 
The notes of its morning hymn. 

Through the window of Jane's cottage 
I see the dark green leaves 

Of the plants, and a single blossom, 
Smile from under the eaves, 

A bird by the door now flying 
Sings of the heart at strife — 

To the form in the window sighinj^ 
The song of a wasted life. 

Jane's face at the window gazing 

Into the troubled years ; 
And her sad voice softly praising 

The past in a flood of tears. 

The past, before she had met him 
Who shadowed all her joy, 

Who left her alone — forsaken — 
To live with a newer toy. 

She saw J 's manly figure 

One morn in her sixteenth year, 



JAICE. S^ 

And her youncr heart throb'd with passion 
And her blue eyes filled with tears, 

Tears that she hides in laughter 

Deep, deep, in the madd'ning crowd ; 

Far down in a heart of secrets 
That are never heard aloud. 

J 's love, folks say, is changeful 

And fickle as the moon ; 
Or like the summer clover, 

Can quickly lose its bloom. 

J led her into a forest, 

Where cares grow tall and high 
Like trees, and older people 

Get lost, and often cry, 

And sit them down and ponder, 

As the night is coming on, 
If their daily bread of sorrow 

Can be purchased with a song. 

J 's handsome face has vanished 

Into the future — there — 
Gone — as the heart can banish 

The curse of its early care. 

• ••••••• 

Go on, O monster; crushing 

In passion the noblest worth 
Of souls that are ever rushing 

Away from the peace of earth ! 



52 JANE. 

Go on ! O world ! with your getting 
Struggle and cheat and h"c ; 

Go on ! O hearts ! with your fretting 
Idling the moments by! 

Jealousy there in the pulpit, 

With its shadow on the throne — 

Till the heart reels from the picture 
To the truer hearts at home. 

And the man of the sect still watching 
With a jealous demon's eye 

The gains of his brother pastor 
In the souls that never die. 

And ere the shadows revolve again 
The critic curses the rhyme, 

And the poet sings to the hearts of men 
The songs of another time ! 

Jane's young heart clung like a flower 
And clasped to the nearest thing 

That offered the bliss of the hour — 
The hope of a wedding ring. 

And her pleasure of youthful passion 

Has stolen away a calm 
That is deeper and ever as voiceful 

As thoughts of an evening psalm. 

And it reaches the inner feeling 

Of the poet's lonely heart, 
And it prompts the pen to utter 

The words of his magic .irt 



JANE. Si 



The roar of the world's commotion 

Is dead to my inner ear, 
And the echo of long lost voices 

The only sound 1 hear. 



A CHRISTMAS MARRIAGE 

THE PROPOSAL. 

Two Stars flashed out on the marge of night, 
Two eyes that shone with a pensive Hght. 

The pink of her cheeks was all aglow 

With the breath of the evening's falling snow. 

" Bring flowers," they whispered as she stood 
Herself a flower in Life's tangled wood. 

The music stole through the perfumed room 
In beautiful threads from Fancy's loom. 

The wealth and the fashion of beauty there, 
The diamonds gleamed in her golden hair. 

A lily slept on her rounded breast, 

And dreamed of the joy of the heart it prest. 

Her beauty haunted the hearts of men ; 
Their faces blushed back their thoughts again. 

"The breath of the flower is music to me," 
She said as she stood — for her heart was free. 

He gazed in her face with tearful eyes, 
For his heait had flown to its paradise. 



A CHRISTMAS MARRIAGE. 55 

"Think of me — alas, won't you be my bride?" 

She whispered, " When gathers next Christmas-tide " 



NEXT CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 

The stars in their lamps were shimmering bright, 
Embossed on the sky of that Christmas night. 

The flower had liv^ed through the weary year 
And the joy of the Christmas-tide was here. 

She smoothed her tresses, but did not speak 
As the carriage rolled through the grav'ly street. 

Her words were sighs, and her looks a strife. 
For her heart was full of a deeper life. 

But see ! oh, sad — those steeds have taken fright. 
Rushing on wildly through the Christmas night. 

Away! To yonder river's brink 

They dash like demons who have power to think! 

" O God ! O Mother !" they heard her scream 
As the madden'd horses hurled her astream. 



Through the carriage window of frosted lace 
The people noticed a human face. 

The eyes were fixed, but they did not see, 
And the lids were still and the hands were free 



56 A CHRISTMAS MARRIAGE. 

They lifted her into the bridal room, 

And he kissed the lips that had sealed his doom. 

But Love could not awaken its sleeping bride ; 
She slumbered forever that Christmas-tide. 



THE WHITE BUFFALO. 
SIOUX (uncpapa) hymn. 

He is dead ! Erect the tent poles ; face the tent to- 
ward the East ; 

Let the Wakan-man* prepare the artemcsia for the 
feast ; 

P'or the powers of earth and water, for the gods of 
earth and air 

Whirl in the driving tempests, and the avalanche's 
glare. 

He is dead ! See yonder circles — the symbol of the 

camp, 
Drawn now by priestly fingers on the snow-white beast 

that stamped 
The thunder of the whirlwind from the prairie at the 

dawn, 
That tore the lightning from the rocks that caught the 

upland storm. 

He is dead ! The priest is kneeling ; let the chiefs in 

chorus sing, 
For the powers of earth and water have revealed to us 

this thing. 

V Sioux (Uacp^pa) pri«st. 



58 THE WHITE bUi^FALO. 

He is dead ! The waiting virgin cuts the ceremonial 

hide, 
And the raven head is bending with a look of awing 

pride. 

He is dead ! His blood has crimsoned, with the fear- 
ful tide of life 

The prairie's frosted grasses in the sacrificial strife. 

He is dead! The night is falling, and the voiceful 
winds are still. 

And a star is seen approaching from the rifts above the 
hill. 



THE LONE TREE OF BANNER HILL. 

A SONG. 

Hurled back to the dust by the voice of the prairie 
The Storm-King- has vanquished his rival at length ; 
For an age I defied him, but now he has left me 
The emblem of weakness — the plaything of strength. 

'Mid the violets that scented the breath of the meadow 
I parted my roots for the panther to crouch ; 
When the red man was weary I flung him a shadow, 
And shook him down leaves for the bed of his couch, 

I saw golden peace wave her wand o'er the valleys 

And — Anna — and Cobden — Vienna arise. 

Like a dream in the prairie, where Commerce now 

rallies 
Her minions of Mammon 'neath Liberty's skies. 

Where my eagles once screamed o'er the lambs that 

they purloined. 
And the buffalo reeled in its thundering dread ; 
I have watched from my branches the low graves of 

Du Quoin, 
Rise green from the snow which encircle her dead. 

When War rent the hills and poured blood to the 

ocean 
And Slaughter bestrided the hosts of the slain ; 



6o THE LONE TREE OF BANNER HILL. 

I unfurled from my heights the young flag of the 

nation, 
And shouted her victories over the plain. 

I have ruled o'er the prairie as God's own anointed. 
I have heard in the March wind the voice of His spell ; 
And I fall — men and heroes — my time is appointed — 
I fall to the dust that ye all love so well. 



THE UNFORTUNATE. 

Tn the grave-yard of Centralia, far in Southern Illinois. 
Sleeps a voice that vowed a girl was all a mother's nar- 
row joys. 

In those shadows stood the daughter, where the living 

all must stand, 
As they watch the dark clods fall upon the sleeper's 

folded hands. 

And the round moon swings at midnight far above that 

mother's grave, 
And the sad wind 'mid the cypress chants an hymn 

where she was laid. 

And the voices in the stillness hush the whispering of 
prayer, 

And the ghosts of the departed shriek along the mid- 
night air. 

And the frosts weaves solemn fancies on the branches 

of the yew, 
And the robin in the sunrise pecks the tears of fallen 

dew. 

Horror painted all her dreaming — horror stifled ever^ 

grace ; 
tlorror wove the thread of anguish in the thought-lines 
of her face. 



62 THE UNFORTUNATE. 

For the heart hath deeper meanings than have struggled 

into speech, 
And the sadder things of mortals have escaped the 

poets' reacli. 

Meanings hushed in secret that are never heard again, 
Secrets that are guarded with a bitterness of pain. 

Secrets grimly bolted in their halls among the dead, 
Where the dead are heard to whisper and a whisper 
wakes the dead. 

Hush the babble of that child-birth, lest her vainer se.x 

declare 
Only wealth and ancient virtue are the equals of the 

fair. 

That the womb is more than genius is establishing our 

worth, 
That our after life is nothing to the moment of our 

birth. 

Plunged deep into the river's night and left to gasp and 

drown, 
Float out the babes from many a breast that curse a 

monarch's crown. 

And the babe of many a ploughman's cot that can not 

know its birth, 
Shines bright upon a world that can not estimate its 

worth. 



THE UNFORTUNATE. 63 

Then her voice of anguish rising as the other voice has 
gone, 

Though the dead heard not her calling, and the sleep- 
ing one slept on ; 

When Jus hot breath gasped in promise, and the round 

world changed to bliss, 
Did he dream that world would perish in a curse as 

deep atthis ? 

Shall I curse him ? He whose soft words in their pas- 
sion murmured low. 

Charmed away the angel conscience and the reason's 
lucid flow ? 

Siiall I wreck him with a vengeance only equal to his 

crime. 
Speed the arrow to his own heart which has ever 

poisoned mine ? 

Hetter hell where all is lifeless, than a mother's mad- 
dened brain ; 

Better hell where all is horror, than a murdered infant's 
stain. 

Ah I that shadow? — yes — my babe ; it speaks — it speaks 

my name — 
It comes ! I feel its bloody kiss upon these lips ol 

shame. 

O God ! my brain is whirling — dancing with the stars 

and sky ; 
The grave-vaults seem to shudder as the phantom 

passeth by. 



64 THE UNFORTUNATE. 

See! again! the babe's blood spurting like a foaming 

wine of mirth, 
Fresh from out the drunken lips of yonder grave of 

horrid earth ! 

Death 1 O Death ! remember ; hell is sweeter than 

the night, 
If its whirlwind-laden curses stifle out that fearful sight ! 

Younff, but lost and branded now with all the curse of 
Cain, 

1 wander forth into the streets to infamy and pain. 

O life! thou singest falsely to the maiden's ravished 

heart, 
And the back room in the alley paints the living lie of 

art. 

Thy morning beams dart downward through the green 

closed shutters there. 
On the lips of rosy shame, and on the slumbers of 

despair. 

Passion, passion, in her frenzy bids them drown the 

voice of dread, 
And Mammon purchase virtue with the price of honest 

bread. 

Drowning, drowning in the whirpool of the senses, 

splendid dream. 
Ever rising, ever sinking, in the mad delirious stream ; 

Where the law that binds the woman sets the strongei 

demon free, 
And the bribing of the policeman is the price of liberty. 



CHRISTMAS. 



AN IMITATION. 



Ring out, ye bells of winter, 

Over the hills of gray ; 
Ring out ye moss-grown turrets, 

Of the Great One's glad birthday ! 

Ring loud from the smoky city, 
Ring over the boundless plain, 

Ring through the quaint old valleys, 
Ring through the sleet and the rain ! 

Ring in the glories before us. 

Ring out the dismal past, 
Ring of the days that are better, 

Man's future — not his past! 

Ring in a future for labor ; 

Joy for the lips that are dumb ; 
Ring in a wage for the workman, 

Ring out the cursing of rum ! 

Ring until the children's voices 
Are borne on the winds to Him, 

Ring of the pleasure that gathers, 
Till the eyes of the saints grow dim ! 



6s 



66 CHRISTMAS. 

Ring of the joyful message, 

Into the evening time, 
Ring with the poet's fancies 

That float on the wings of rhyme ! 

Ring out a chime for the sad ones, 

Kissing a last farewell, 
Ring out a comfort for sorrow. 

Ring out ! O Christmas bell ! 



THE CHURCHYARD CHANT. 

With the silly rumor of President Cleveland carrying a horse-chest- 
nut in his pantaloons pocket, for luck, arise a number of superstitious frag- 
ments concerning horse-shoes and other things which are supposed to 
possess some occult power of a hurtful, a healing, or a protective kind. 

" Dar '11 be bad luck in dis house for seven years," wailed a colored 
woman in the presence of the writer, as a small looking-glass lay shivered 
by accident at her feet. With the horrible superstitions of a graver 
character, and of less civilized days, is now passing out of the popular 
mind a once dark belief in witches and devils. Traces of this 
abominable faith in devil-worship, the writer traced in a peculiarly 
modified form, a few years ago, among the negroes of Mississippi, 
Kentucky, and in the mountains of Alabama. For a weird dream, im- 
agine a score or more negresses chanting at midnight in an old 
deserted churchyard such an incantation as the following dramatic 
fragment : 

First Negress. 
De moon hangs high on de river's brim, 

An' de stars gleam ober de hill ; 
De ghosts in de tree glare out ob de limb, 

An' de voice ob de night is still ; 
An' de song ob de river's voice is crushed, is crushed ! 
An' de song ob de owl is hushed ; 

An' dar forms in de cloud hangs low, hangs low. 
Hush ye witches ! 
Hush ye witches ! 
For dar forms in de cloud hangs low, hangs low. 
Second Negress, 
Steppin' lightly o'er de grass, 

Witches do not move so fas' — 

67 



68 THE CHURCHYARD CHANT. 

For de demons ob de dead 
Which de sons ob mortals dread, 

Shall speak ! 

Shall speak ! 

Third Negress. 
Place de magic ox-hoofs here — 
Let de sparks ob awful fire 
From de nether world aspire ; 
Scatter now de virgin's blood ; 
Hang her heart above de grave, 
An' de voice ob night declare 
Demons ob de earf an' air ! 

Fourth Negress. 

Awful to mortal sight — 
Minions of hell and night ! 
Wreck of a blasted world, 
Cursed by a power hurled 
Into de mystic sea, 
Madness and mystery ! 

Fifth Negress. 
What is dat we hear ? 
Witches do not fear ! 
Let each demon meet 
In his winding sheet — 
In his form of death, 
With his icy breath, 
Come here ! 
Come here ! 
Sixth Negress. 
Wither! wither! 
Shiver! shiver! 



THE CHURCHYARD CHANT. 69 

Watch dem prance. 
Madly dance 
All aroun' 
On de groun' ! 

Seventh Negress. 

See ! Grim Despair 
Shakin' her hair 

Mournfully ! 

Mournfully ! 

To and fro. 

Eight Negress. 
Shades ob de darkes' hell, 
Weavin' dar deepes' spell, 
Arts from the lifeless moon, 
Bearin' de mortal's doom. 

Are here ! 

Are here ! 

Ninth Negress. 

Death and destruction 

Dar sceptres obey. 
The worm and corruption 

Gloat over dar prey ! 

Tenth Negress. 

Teach us your wisdom, ye spirits of wrath, 

Who sweep in de whirlwind and ride on de sea ; 

Who scatter de ashes of worlds in your path 
And shriek out de woes of their mystery! 

Eleventh Negress. 

Demons of burnin' fire 
Flashin' your deep desire ; 



yO THE CHURCHYARD CHANT. 

Snakes twinin' in your breast 
Suitin' your madness best ; 
Charms of a thousand hells 
Wake in your magic spells ; 
Souls of the flamin' pit, 
Ride ye with spur and bit ; 
Famine at your comman' 
Curses the earth and Ian' ; 
War from the gory plain 
Echoes your curse again ; 
Jealousy saunters by, 
Death in her evil eye ! 

Twelfth Negress. 

Come with your hoofs and hair ! 
Come with your mad despair ! 
Come with your eyes alight ! 
Come with the crimes of night ! 
Come with your nameless truth ! 
Come with the curse of youth ! 
Come from your deepest cave ! 
Come dance about this grave ! 



THE DYING POET. 

[Thomas Chatterton, of Bristol, is universally conceded to be the 
greatest prodigy in English literature. He died before he was eighteen 
years of age. Political essays, burlettas, satiric poems, and literary 
matter of almost every conceivable description flowed from his pen in 
a marvelous torrent which astonished the world. He died of neglect, 
contempt, and starvation. "On Saturday his landlady" (whose gentle 
appreciation of genius was, of course, measured by its facility for the 
prompt payment of coal bills and room rent), " alarmed that her lodger 
did not make his appearance, had the door of his room broken open ; 
saw the floor littered with small pieces of paper, and Chatterton lying 
on the bed ivith his legs hanging over, quite dead."] 



On the mast of the night there sailed from afar, 

The glimmering lamp of a virgin star ; 

The wind howled without like a ghost of the sea, 

And chanted the song of its mystery ; 

And the leaves hurled along in their maddening play, 

Chasing the spirit of evil away. 

The dying light on the silent hearth 

Sputtered in music and gibbered in mirth, 

Flinging a form on the garret wall 

Like a figure wrought on a demon's pall. 

II. 

And I have sung to the hearts of men 
The song they never shall hear again ; 
The song is sung and the task is o'er — 
A life floats loose from its day-lit shore, 



72 THE DYING POET. 

Out! out! Far out to the tideless sea, 
God's image of eternity ! 

III. 

The poet's garret in ruin bare, 

Flapped its ragged curtain there ; — 

Some old, worn books, whose thoughts were fresh. 

Stripped and torn of their mental flesh ; 

Books of the past, that had eased his pain. 

Books of the present, that smiled in vain. 

The present ? Ha ! ha ! and how could he stay 

Where only the ripples of fancy play — 

When he heard the thoughts of the present roar 

In the rush of the songs that had gone before ? 



IV. 



The poet laid his trembling hand 
Upon the writing near the stand, 
Then tossed upon his fevered bed. 
And stroked the brow of his aching head 
That lay athwart the pillows there, 
Dreaming a hollow, dark despair. 
His glance fell wildly on the flame, 
As if to find some human name, 
That often long forgotten lie 
Upon the shores of destiny. 
Then suddenly become the prey 
Of the swift intide of memory. 
He shifted his glance to the awful night ; 
His pale lips moved with a ghastly white, 
As his dark hair floated around a face 
Adorned with a brow of youthful grace ; 



THE DYING POET. 73 

And on the fever-tumbled sheet 

His thin arm lay like an idle streak 

Of flesh — stripped to its size of hated bone, 

So ghastly white it gleamed and shone : 

And the flame in his eyes bore a fitful gleam, 

Like the moving light of a troubled stream 

When the current below has spent its play 

In the sport of its summer holiday. 

He watched the dim light rise and fall. 

He was so weak he could not crawl 

To sip the water on the chair, 

That Indigence left sitting there ; 

And once when he tried to reach the door, 

And shout — shout loud along the floor 

For help to fight the awful hour — 

His proud will mightier than his power — 

He sank on his dying pillow — chill 

And cold as the corpse of a life that is still ! 

Sank ! a mere youth upon the dry brea.st 

Of a world that was cursed with a vague unrest ; 

A world that had trampled and cursed its own. 

And loved not the spirit that sang to its moan. 



" M'y soul! " he murmured, as he died, — 

"Thou driftest on the immortal tide; 

And the earthly form of thy robe of light 

Shall sleep on the bridal couch of night ; 

And into the regions unknown before, 

The wing of thy thought shall rise and shall soar, 

And the flight of thy pinion out-measure the years, 

And the rapid falling of human tears. 

Alas ! the breast heaves ; ah ! the moment has come 



74 THE DYING POET. 

My vision is failing ! I hear the dim hum 

Of the worlds, — as the gates of my heart 

I hear closing — and — shut out — and part 

From my soul — that — now weeps — at the — bars- 

O f — its — 1 i fe — and — moimts — /// — to — the — stars ! 



A BARN-YARD FABLE. 

A rooster who lived in a barn-yard, turned up his head 

to the cloud, 
And strutted afore all his chickens, and acted a kind 

o' proud ; 
And looked at his hens in the smoke-house and counted 

his family stock, 
And the eggs in the gourd of his widders that stood 

just under the rock. 

But an eagle that war a screamin', out near the big 

sweet-gum, 
Flew clean in front of the barn-yard and envied the 

rooster some ; 
And, I think, felt a kind o' sneakin', for I heard the ol' 

rascal say : 
" Yer preemerses look so handsome, and how do you 

do to-day ?" 

Then the rooster he looked at his feathers an' jippideed 

over the straw, 
And put on the airs of a peacock with a million in his 

craw; 
And said that he calc'lated, perwidin' the thing could 

be done, 
To sell off the eggs of his widders and take him a home 

near the sun, 

....... 75 



"J^ A BARN-YARD FABLE. 

He said, "I war meant for an eagle, but the farm 

made a ejiot of me 
And kept me a peckin' at barn doors instid of a soarin' 

free, 
Though when I peer down on my feathers, and think 

of how handsom' I look, 
I feel 'bout ez good ez an eagle, with a wing like a 

prunin' hook. 

" But my chickens has now grown as plenty as Abram's 

seed once were. 
And I 've still got to keep on a scratchin' to keep 'em in 

eatin' and wear ; 
And the family still keeps a grovvin', and I reckon 

they '11 never git done. 
Until the bones of my children sleeps under the big 

sweet-gum. 

" And then I find thar are moments when I do n't want 

to be quite as free, 
'Special' ez long ez the young hens keeps up thar kissin' 

o' me ; 
But I always wanted to fly, sir, and be like an eagle 

and soar, 
Instid of a watchin' my chickens, and peckin' around a 

barn door. 

" I 've 'eerd that thar ain't any difference (between the 

great eagles that fly 
Far over the p'ints of the Rockies and up to the 

speckled sky. 



A BARN-VARD FABLE, TJ 

And my chickens that pick up the grub worms and 

scatter around in the yard, 
Or Biddy that 's only one chicken, yet cackles so 

mighty hard. 

"And I can 't jess beUeve thar 's a difference, 'cause I 

feel jest as good as you, 
And reckon a rooster's feelin's — as an argeement will 

do; 
For this thing o' thar bein' a difference — it ain't good 

Providence, 
For a rooster could turn to an eagle if he only got the 

chance." 

The Eagle. 

Then the eagle answered the rooster, and said he was 

glad to know 
He was tired o' stayin' in barn-yards, an' livin' so po* 

and low. 
Sez he: "1 '11 adap' yer chickens, and take 'em away 

to school, 
And teach 'em some higher notions, and the p'ints in 

the Golden Rule. 

"And every one shall be eagles, and learn fur to fly 

as high — 
As e'er a one of the eagles that soars in a purple 

sky. 
They shall build their nests on the mountains, whar the 

clouds and the views ez grand. 
And never fool down in the barn-yards, or live in the 

reach of land.'* 



yS A BARN- YARD FABLE. 

And the pullets they all war happy, and chirruped 

with all thar might, 
And the older hens o' the barn-yard clucked with a 

quar' delight — 
Jist like some gals in the country talkin' o' livin' in 

town — 
Because it '11 suit thar fancy to strut in a fine silk 

gown, 

" But afore we settle th' bargain," the eagle then 

went on, 
" Supposin' I tak' you an' a couple of the sweetest 

pullets along ; 
An' after yer've stayed a week or so, come back and 

let them know 
How much finer eagles live than the chickens here 

below." 

Then the rooster he consented, 'cause he thought it 

would be "life" 
To enjoy the mountain breezes with two pullets for a 

wife. 
And agin he iled his feathers, and thought of the times 

to come 
When he 'd introduce his pullets to the eagles of the 

sun. 

Then the pullets both got ready with the rooster to fly 

away 
With the eagle up to the mountains that ketches the 

light of the day. 
And the eagle screamed to his partner when he 

reached his thorny crest, 



A BARN-YARD FABLE. 79 

To come and kiss the pullets and the rooster in thar 
nest. 

But the pullets both began cryin', and the rooster 

wanted to go 
Back down to his home in the barn-yard, far away in 

the plain below. 
Then the eagles laughed at their folly, an ate 'cm up 

one by one, 
And burned up the rooster's feathers in the furnace of 

the sun. 

The Moral 

Many a farmer ez happy until some great city man, 
A sellin' o' organs or sech like, works on him the 

eagle's plan. 
Ambitious to be what yer can 't be, ez a cursin' o' 

human life ; 
An' to imagine oneself to be somethin', is oft th' 

beginnin' o' strife. 

The crust o' contentment is better than bushels o' sil- 
ver or gold 

And a cabin with only a baby is sweeter than land that 
ez sold, 

And peace ez wuth more than a million, and a heart 
that ez singin ivitJi hope 

Ez stronger ter overcovi sorrow than a rooster s vain 
braggin' and croak. 



TO LOVE IS NOT ALL. 

I read o'er your letters so cheerful and dreaming ; 

I watch thy young thoughts that are scampering here, 
And I glean from your pages a wonderful meaning, 

And offer — my only sad tribute — a tear ! 
I would not mar anything of your deep pleasure. 

Or shadow the sunbeam of youth with a pall ; 
But simply suggest, in the line of the measure. 

In battling with life — that to love is not all! 

But ah ! that it were ! — that the tides of emotion — 
That thrill through the soul with their magical spell, 

And dreams of the heart in its wilder devotion — 
Would never ebb low on the bosom of hell ! — 

Till the heart, in its anguish, recoils at the picture, 
And stifles its groan in the clarion call 

Of years of ambition — till its poisonous moisture 

Hiss deep from its dregs — that to love is not all! 

80 



THE ELDER'S WELCOME. 

An' yer 've com' to hoi' a meetin' ? Wall, com' in and 

take a cheer, 
We 've hed a heap o' preachers that 'as held thar 

meetin's heer ; 
Jest put yer verlise on the porch. Why, yer look a 

sort o' young, 
A kin' ez ef yer was n't blessed with a powerfu' sight 

o' tongue. 

Thar 's Brothers Brown, an' Baker, thet 's ex'orted in 
these parts. 

But I reckon that they can 't comprehend the peo- 
ple's heerts — 

An' thar's — well, I '11 be dog — gone — don — it — what 
makes yer look so thin ? 

Ar' yer troubled Avith neuralgy, or some other human 
sin ? 

An' thar's Brother Wineyslicker that 's wuth a caucus 

on a prayer — 
But he can 't hold a shuckin' to our peert young brother 

thar— 
An' thar's — What? Ar' yer troubled with the bile, 

young man, yer look ez ef yer ware, 
Yer stand so mighty curious like, an' yer moustache 

looks so bare. 



82 THE elder's WELCOME. 

Yer'll find the wash-pan near the well, the soap is on 
the wall, 

Yer'll have to use the soft-soap, or yer can 't get none 
at all ; 

Yer '11 find the towel behind the door, and the chick- 
en 's almost done, 

Ver look a kin' o' young, but then I guess yer 'II suit us 
some. 



1 88; AND 1888. 

Go ! Bury the year, 
Shedding a tear 
Over her bier. 

Go ! Scatter the flowers : 
Gone are her powers, 
Flown with the hours. 

Go ! The frost h'eth thin, 
Chant ye an hymn, 
The sky groweth dim. 

Go ! Lay her to rest, 
The snow on her breast, 
God knoweth best. 

(1888,) 

The year touched the cheek of the earth, 
As he slept in the December night, 

And he woke from his dreaming of mirth. 
And smiled on the New Year of light. 

Then he pushed back the curtains of morn. 
That swung on the cords of the air ; 

And he gazed on her beautiful form, 
And the wealth of her golden hair. 



84 188; AND 1888. 

He pillowed his head in his hand ; 

He drank in the beams of her face ; 
He counted the diamonds that spanned 

The charms of her nonchalant grace. 

He leaped from the bed he had lain, 

Arrayed in his garments of mist ; 
The clouds and the mountains and rain 

Must have heard it, you know — for they kissed. 



I 

A POST-OFFICE VISITOR. 

She war large, she war pussy an' fat, ati' she spoke 

with a kurios grin — 
An' the hole in the post-office winder jest about kivered 

her chin, 
Ez she yelled, "I reckin yer ain't 'eerd from that 

scamp of a Jim ? 
I writ him jest three weeks ago, an' I *m an age a 

'eerin' from him." 

Th' gal in th' winder looked out, an' handed a postal 

card — 
I didn' see what thar waz on it, fur I wuz a fixin' my 

lard, 
Or the cover upon my tin can, an' my seein' ez still a 

bit hard. 
An' a crowd of th' town folk war thar, an' Jenny my 

wife an' my pard. 

" Yer ken go ter grass with yer postal !" she yelled, ez 

she started back, 
An' shook that 'ere postal afore her, jest like a pizened 

rat, 
Or a coon that's tryin' to bite yer through an ol' coffee 

sack. 
Or like Jenny a lickin' Johnny when thar 's creepers in 

his cap. 



86 A POST-OFFICE VISITOR. 

" This yer postal ain't from him !" she neighed, ez she 

dashed to the door, 
An' the town-folks all struck up a grinnin', I reckon 

thar war a score ; 
" Yer kan 't work yer postal on this un ; I know Jim's 

own writin' afore ; 
This 'ere card ez from Kansas — it's a dun from ol' 

Susan Moore ! 

We bought a cow from them critters, jest 'fore they 

started out West — 
An' th' cow it ain't worth a milkin', an' her calf it 

wont take to the breast — 
I wish yer would write to them Moores ; when they 

come I can settle the rest; 
Jest drop 'em a postal an' tell 'em to take thar ol' steer 

an' be blest." 

O, Lor' ! how them town folks did titter, an' Jenny she 

tugged at my sleeve ; 
An' our marc in the winter spring-wagon looked up 

an' neighed fur to leave; 
An' the gal in the post-office winder looked kind o' 

puzzled an' red, 
Kase the woman a sort o' lacked gumption, or hed a 

screw loose in her head. 

"Yer grin like a passel of ijjuts!" she shrieked in a 

mighty hot tone, 
Ez she flung her umbrell' all around her, an' her face 

grow ez red ez a cone ; 



A POST-OFFICE VISITOR. 8/ 

" I reckon I know my own bizness, yer dirty galoots — 

get yer home !" 
An' I reckon we soon must have got, fur we toted and 

left her — alone. 



THE VOICE OF THE GRAVE. 

A deep voice spake beneath me 

From the hollow of the grave, 
And said: " Know thou that life is not 

Thine own to gain or save. 
Go ! — Work amid the wants of men — 

Or in the alley's gloom — 
Give to each task of life again 

The fragrance of its bloom. 
No great ones but the great of heart 

Pass through these portals here — 
Wealth can not buy from those it parts 

The value of a tear. 
Go ! — Work amid where Hunger prompts 

The poor to beg and lie — 
Go ! — Work where Prostitution walks 

And Beggary curtsies by. 
So shalt thou find in thy good task 

A healing for thy woe ; 
Thy stain shall vanish in the eve 

Of thy life's after-glow. 



THOMAS CARLYLE. 

DIED FEB. 5, i88r. 

Thou mighty man, as Time shall fling 

Its fingers o'er thy name, 
And with the generations sing 

The greatness of thy fame. 
The West shall shed a tribute tear, 
And worship o'er thy frozen bier ; 

Thou hast not lived in vain ! 
For we are many who revere 
The Godlike hero-worshiper. 

Now Fred'rick's sun sinks pale and dim, 

When nations sing of war ; 
The eyes of Prussia follow him 

And his biographer! 
At thy command its sun stood still ! 
And Europe gazed, against its will, 

On Time's broad horizon, 
To watch its universal light 
Sink in the memory of night. 

Peace to thy grave. O eyes of heaven, 

Watch o'er the poet's cell ! 
America be unforgiven 

If she forget the spell, 



^ 



90 THOMAS CARLYLE. 

Thrown o'er her quick'ning mind 
By a spirit unconfined, 

Where other spirits dwell ! 
May oblivion's vortex never lure 
Scotland's Star of Literature ! 



LIFE. 

Life is action ! Onward bravely 
To its battle-field of strife ; 

Let its sacrifices teach thee, 
Action is the soul of life ! 

Brighter sparks of truth inflame us, 
Conscience flings a steady ray ; 

There 's no night, however pathless, 
Yet beyond the reach of day. 

Life is action ! Daring mortal, 

Mount its sacrificial pyre ! 
God shall weave, with hand immortal, 

Thee a coronet of fire ! 

What if earth should not reward thee 
For thy undiscovered strife ! 

Dare — and labor, nobly, freely, 
Heaven 's the ultimate of life ! 

In that unrevealed future, 
Hidden from the mortal eye. 

On its broad, expansive acre, 
Bloom the hopes that never die. 



DE OL" VIRGINNY TIMES. 

I 'ze seed a heap ob changes since de morning I was 

born 
(When I fus' heard Massa toot dat ol' brass dinner 

horn) ; 
Tho' I was n't feeHn' well jes den, I fought my way, 

an' climbed 
Out to de world an' shouted, " O, dis sweet Virginny 

time !" 

De mule dat in my boyhood bent de straightnin' in my 

limb, 
Has eaten all his clover, an' has sung his partin' 

hymn ; 
An' de wagon dat I drove to town an' squeaked jess 

like dis rhyme, 
Has blossomed into firewood since dat ol' Virginny 

time. 

Far away in dat plantashun wher' de ol' folks lay 

asleep, 
An' de sunflo'r stands a braggin' near de water-melon 

heap. 
Was wher' I fus' saw Linda standin' 'neath de limes, 
In de happy, scrumpt'ous moments ob de ol' Virginny 

times. 

She stood a-leanin' near de branch, ez pert as some 
queen bee ; 



DE ol' virginny timks. 93 

Her teeth shone Hke de cotton pod, an' looked e/. 

sweet to me ; 
An' many a time, when in de war wid Yankees in de 

line, 
Dis nigger's thoughts went floatin' to de ol Virginny 

time. 

We did n't care for money den — it grew upon de 

groun' ; 
An' chickens could be always had by simply lookin' 

roun' ; 
De young shoats an' de spare-ribs, too, wid apple-sass 

combined. 
Grew wid de sweet persimmons in de ol' Virginny 

time. 

De bucket on de ol' log chain am rustin' in de well, 
De moss am growin' on de oaken bucket's rim a spell ; 
De flo'rs dat blossom on de walk hab wither'd in dar 

prime, 
An' de cabin has changed sadly since de ol' Virginny 

time. 

An' I often sit an' wonder, now my hair am gittin' 

gray, 
Ef de freemen ob Virginny see sech happy times 

to day — 
Ef de freein' ob de niggers has so much improved de 

kind, 
Dat dey neber sit an' ponder on de ol' Virginny time. 

I 'm ol', an' lame, an' feeble, now, an' climbin' up de 
slope 



94 DE OL VIRGINNY TIMES. 

Wher' both nigger an' de white man see de same 

bright star ob hope — 
1 'm totterin' up de great white throne to whar' dc 

seraphs shine, 
To sing de song I love, about de ol' Virginny time. 

Dar 's jess one thing I ask for, when de trumpet blows 

for me : 
Jess to lay dis po' dead nigger 'neath ol' Misses' 

apple tree — 
Wher' I used to hitch de bosses on de rack across de 

line, 
An' hung de hempen halter in de ol' Virginny time. 



ROBERT BURNS. 



AN ANSWER. 



What if the depths of Burns' learning 
Was not fathomless — as thine ; 

Learning 's but another's earning, 
Toiling at the forge of mind ! 

If his cottage passed — unnumbered — 
And the proud ne'er entered there — 

Nature's jewels always slumber 
In her quarries rough and bare ! 

If his manly hand was hardened 
By the grip of honest toil — 

Life 's a very weedy garden — 

Tears and failures make the sotl ! 



SEVER p:d. 

When from thy h'ps of faithless love the evening vow 

had fell, 
I ne'er once thought that thou wouldst turn this bosom 

to a hell ; 
But trusting in the empty word which trembled on thy 

breath, 
I gave thee all my heart could give, and pledged thee 

mine till death ! 

I 've wondered wh)- the loves of earth, like golden 

beams at noon 
Or autumn mists in sunshine, should float away so 

soon ; 
I 've wondered why the wondrous snows which winters 

fling, are cold. 
Enshrouding trees with beauty, yet chill with icy fold. 

But now in thought they tell me of those sullen nights 

of doom 
When the frosts of human anguish nip the heart in 

early bloom 
Like some childhood flower — forsaken — my spirit has 

been hurled 
And left to float adrift upon the laughter of a world ! 

I do not wish a sorrow to roll o'er your chosen course, 
Or retrospection to bring back the anguish of remorse ; 



SEVERED, 97 

From woman's lips of artless love how many vows have 

fell, 
And yet those broken vows have proved the golden 

snares of hell ! 



DEPTHS. 

No ! I would not hear repeated 
Thy self-gained woes again — 

When the murder in the meaning 
Falls from the lips of men. 

By the mass of men who mutter 
Of wrongs they can not heal — 

There are woes too deep to utter, 
And passions too bitter to feel. 

Ah ! much of thy life is folly, 
And m.uch of thy death is life — 

The soul that labors in silence 
Avoids the stabs of the strife. 



AN KIGHT-LINE NOVELETTE. 

A young man sighed on a garden gate 

As a storm of the night was blowing oser, 
And the soft wind howled like a ghost at a wake 

And his cheeks were flushed as the crimson clover. 
" Sig !" roared a voice from the garden walk, 
As the young man '* lit " with a buckeye stalk, 
But suddenly slipped in the misty street 
And the house-dog helped himself to the meat ! 



GARFIELD. 

Bury him not where ambition lies dreaming 

In deep, sordid pomp, or the mockery of strife ; 

Go ! Bury him deep where the wild flowers are gleam- 
ing 
In all the sweet fragrance of innocent life ! 

Bury him not where the trailings of splendor 
Wave gaudily over his green, narrow l?ed, 

For the rustle of pride would only engender 
An echo of scorn from the lips of the dead ! 

Bury him not 'neath the proud, vaunting marble — 
He needs not its sculpture to echo his name, 

For the rocks, and the hills, and the forest bird's 
warble 
Will roll on the micrht of his "-atherincf fame ! 



ETHNOLOGY. 

Some love to study Nature 
In rock and hill and glen ; 

I 'd sooner watch her gambols 
In the characters of men ! 



THE INDIAN CRISIS. 

To Hon. Lucius Q. C. Lamar, Secretary of Interior. 

Great Judge ! Thy words have echoed far 
Across the West, to where the slave 

Of Freedom wears a starry scar, 

And proves his prowess as a " brave ! " 

The " crisis " of his hour has passed, — 

He stands the center of a cloud 
Whose storming- lightnings soon shall flash 

His freedom — or a battle shroud ! 

None plead his cause, for poor his purse ; 

Greed shuts its ears to voice of tears. 
Oh ! stay the flood-tide of his curse, 

The bitter darkness of his years ! 



A BLIND MAN'S TRIUMPH. 

JUDGES xvr. 

Hark ! as they tramp his temple court — 

For flames consume the sacrifice, 
And orisons of priests support 
Their victim to the skies ! 

Faith and prayer 

Wing the air, 

And gloat in superstition there! 
Devotion's mumblings unappeased ! 
Hark ! to the music in the breeze — 
A nation's curse is rolled away. 
And Dagon's warriors kneel and pray I 

Within ! A boisterous song rebounds, 

As whirl the maids of dance along, 
And laughing echo flings the sound 
In mirth amid the drunken throng — 

As Samson lies — 

The fish-god's prize — 

The merry scorn of taunting eyes. 
Shorn of his strength — his noble name 
The idle jest of empty fame ! 
And Israel's star of mighty ray 
Hurled from its orbit's fiery way ! 

Anger wore a knitted frown. 
Curses mingled in the flood ; 



I04 A BLIND NfAN S TRIUMPH. 

Satire shot his arrows down, 

Hatred stirred the prophet's blood — 
As sons of scorn, 
With mahcc warm, 
Laughed at tlie strength of his great arm ! 

Samson ! — Israel's god of strength — 

Glory of the Jewish race ! — 
Can laughing woman, lo ! at length 
Crown glory with disgrace ? 
Muscle of clay, 
One little day 
Hath proved thee weaker far than they ! 

Jehovah, hear this once my prayer — 
Avenge these sightless eyes ! 

O mighty One, 

Ere Time begun. 

Or spheres began their course to run 
The eternity of space, 
The Demon was displaced ! 
And — shall a fish-god, born of clay, 
Thus spurn Omnipotence away ? 

A million angels, unseen there. 

View o'er the pomp of power, 
And, hovering in the murky air. 
Scan the delusive hour ! — 
As on swift wing, 
The passions bring 

New joys — which make the jocund ring 
Of laughter through the temple roll ! 



A BIJNn MAN y TRIUMPH. IO5 

Far, far from heaven those ant^els (ly ! 

They come! and walls asunder crack ! 
Like meteors blazing through the sky, 
The porphyritic pillars snap ! 
Hark ! The fall !— 
God and all ! — 
Crushed beneath the angry wall ! 

What, Gaza's god a child of fate ? — 
The light of empires desolate ? — 
Amid a chaos of mankind, 
A blind man dim his solar mind ? 

Jehovah ! Lord ! Thy sovereign tread 
Levels with the oblivious dead 
Empires — and as withcringly 
Their gods of imm.ortality ! 



THE DAWES SIOUX SEVERALTY BILL. 

[The National Indian Defense Association was granted a hearing 
before'the full Indian Committee of the House of Representatives, on 
the 7th of March, 1886, on the bill of Senator Dawes to reduce the Sioux 
Reservation; which bill implies the unjust annulling of the sworn 
agreement, contract, and treaty of the U. S. Government with Red 
Cloud in 1868.] 

Of course, '^reduce " / — Ye politicians, paid 

To hatch the eggs which Infamy has laid ! 

Strip the great Red Cloud to his naked shirt, 

And sell his carcass for the price of dirt ! 

Oh ! ye are great ! ye legislators — all — 

Whose common sense is now usurped by gall ; 

Cursed be the trade, and cursed be the doom. 

Of men who fling o'er man a darker gloom ; — 

Of men who care not for their fellow-man, 

Except to rob the titles of his land, 

" Divide a portion" of his treatied whole 

And claim a patent on his blood and soul ! 

Hark, in your ears ! Ye tools of rings and cliques. 

Whose only genius is born of tricks — 

I know ye well ! — of course ye would make known 

Relinquishment of lands you do not own ! 

Of course! of course! — Committees pay you well 

And grease the foot-fall to your proper hell ; 

And pass their resolutions, and combine 

To throttle freedom with a new State line. 

But know ye this ! ye men that skulk and wait 



THE DAWES SIOUX SEVERALTY BILL. 10/ 

Within the lobbies of the halls of State, 

And by your State-greed set the promised ^^ bounds" 

Of '' agt-ncus " for Sioux — as if for hounds — 

Know this ! The day has passed when men can tie 

The soul of freedom with a public lie ! 

The Sioux are 7/icn ! and manhood still has rights 

Which greedy legislatures dare not fight, 

Or railroads grind beneath their monied wheel, 

Or prate oi "progress" to secure a steal ! 



DR T. A. BLAND, 

Secretary of the National Indian Defense Association. 

God nerve thy arm to strike a blow 
For Right among the great red-men ; 

And stem the greeds that ever flow 
In diplomatic Washington ! 

Thy battles are the wars of them 
Who can not fight with verbal skill, 

Or steal the homes of other men 
By simply pushing fast — a quill ! 



INDIANS IN IRONS. 

On the iuiprisomnoit of Deaf Bull, Crazy Head, Big 

Hailstone, and other Indians, at Fort 

Snelling, November, i88y. 

Avaunt ! ye men who would make slaves 

Of those who nursed the New World's bride ; 

Ah ! guard them well, those fellow braves, 
Who stemmed the battle's bloody tide ! 

Guard well great Deaf Bull, lest his hand 
Smite through the bar and lay thee low ; 

And teach thee that thy lust of land 
Is brutal as his mighty blow ! 

Can irons chain the rights of men, 

Or fetters hold the soul of man ? 
Nay ! God shall turn the tide again, 

And every right be saved from sham. 

Deep curses on the martial head 

That wreaks its vengeance on the weak ; 

To crush, with foreign bullet-lead. 

The Sioux that right and freedom seek ! 

Sword Bearer's body brought to camp, 

And ever dumb his council tongue ? 
His lips all bloody where the tramp 

Of Christian bullets bruised and stung ? 



no INDIANS IN IRONS. 

Ah ! ^uard them well ! But future years 
Shall scan the record ye have made ; 

And Justice count with falling tears 
The drops on every battle blade ! 

Ah ! guard them well ! There 's Crazy Head, 

Athletic, as his soul is brave. 
Beware ! His ounce of honest lead 

May volley o'er thy open grave ! 

Ah ! guard them well ! They are but few, 
Yet charged you to the jaws of hell ; 

As mountain lions, rose and slew 

The men who fought with shot and shell ! 

Ah ! guard. them well, and wish their bones 
Were rotting under moon and stars ; 

So honest men could rob the homes 
Of men behind those prison-bars ! 

Ah ! guard them well ! They are the last : 
We chain the weak and loose the strong, 

And fetter Poverty with brass. 

And chant to Wealth a lying song ! 

Ah ! guard them well I But by the cross, 
On which the Starry Martyr hung, 

I do invoke the mighty mass 

To tell the shame this wrong hath done ! 



GREAT CHIEF RED CLOUD'S LETTER. 

Pine Bluff Agency, Dakota, Feb. ii, '86. 
My Friends: — In reply to your last letter of inquiry, I will state 
that I am not in favor of selling any portion of the great Sioux Reser- 
vation, and hope that the entire Sioux Nation will unite and concur in 
my views. I do not believe that the Great Father at Washington 
would forcibly 

TAKE OUR LAST HOME FROM US. 

The Sioux Nation should hold, at an early day, a general council, 
and come to some definite understanding in regard to this matter before 
il becomes too late for us to act in the premises. The United States 
should survey the Sioux Reservation, and ascertain the amount of laud 
it contains. We would then know whether we could afford to part with 
any portion of our reservation or not, as much of it is waste lands, etc. 
We chiefs and head men should look to the future welfare and prosperity 
of the children who are to survive us. I therefore deem it unadvisable 
for the Sioux Nation, at present, to sign any papers whatever, or enter 
into any more treaty stipulations with the United States, until at least all 
back claims due us under former treaties are properly adjusted. 

Your friend, Red Cloud. 

Take thy ''last home'' ^ Great Chief, you know the 

past ; 
The miUion promises, the verbal farce, 
The mockery of treaty, and the curse 
Of men but waitinj^ but to do their worst ! 

Take thy '' last /lojne" ? Where thou hast viewed the 

morn 
Walk like a monarch o'er the prairie's lawn ? 
Where Industry began the white man's toil, 
And Manhood labored at the smokin"; soil ? 



112 GREAT CHIEF RED CLOUDS LETTER. 

Take thy ''last home'' f Each thunderini^ bluff and 

pine, 
Where h'ghtnings flash upon the cheeks of Time, 
Where Freedom walks, and tempests rave and roar 
Unbridled oceans on some planet shore. 

Take thy ''last home" ? And yet thou art a man, 
The orphan of a State whose love is sham ; 
A pilgrim through the troubled ages to the day 
When love shall sing a world-wide roundela\-. 

Take thy " last home'' f Far o'er the wavy plain, 
Where buffalo leaped through the slanting rain, 
And elk lay crouching, with a sailor's eye, 
In copse — to catch the sight of dangers nigh ? 

Take thy " last home'' / The hilltops of thy name ; 
Shoot down thy eagles from their skies of fame? 
Tear down thy lodges, blight the golden scene. 
And fling athwart the land another mien ? 

Take thy " last home " / Great Chief, the evil 's near, 
The dark oblivion that all men fear ; 
The ruin of your greatness, and a doom 
To which the mist of ages is a tomb. 

Take thy ' ' last home" ? Why ! Rome was swept away : 
The fierce blood of her freedom in a day 
Sank through the earth as in a shower, 
And Liberty was wrecked within an hour ! 

Take thy " last home " f If nations still are thieves ; 
Their monuments are but as withered leaves ; 



GREAT CHIEF RED CLOUDS LETTER. II3 

If manhood's ship hath sprung a fatal leak, 

And might make right, and hunger starve the weak. 

Take thy '' last Junne" ? Red Cloud, they'd take thy 

grave, 
Or lash thee as they lashed the negro slave ; 
They'd sell thy bones, or bind thee with a chain, 
Or feed thee to their dogs, for pelfish gain. 



THE SIOUX SEVERALTY BILL. 

TO PRESIDENT CLEVELAND. 

Cleveland ! the Nation's eyes are turned on thee, 
Thou guardian of the new world's liberty ! 
Leave to a race — who gave the land we own — 
The common gratitude of hearth and throne ! 

Far in the roll of ages all men gage 
The moral act — the greater of the sage ! 
Thrones are but dust — beneath the diadem 
The justful praise of other honest men ! 

Our Presidents ! — their names are but recalled 
By good things they have done — that re-install, 
With monuments of an unequal strife 
Within the nation's breast, their worth and life! 

When thou art throneless, and thy party fate 
Become a thing re-scribbled on a school-boy's slate, 
A deed for those who have no father — friend — 
Would prove a triumph in the bitter end ! 

The bill is not erased — although the glow 

Of empire flash and overflow 

That gray, cold hour when thou must all resign, 

And leave thy laurels in the halls of Time ! 



THE SIOUX SEVERALTY BILL. II5 

Thy day will pass ! — Earth hide thee with her clay, 
And starless nights brood over thy decay ; 
And thou must sleep with Sioux, and Sioux with thee, 
In the last dream of human mystery ! 



REPLY TO MAHPEALUTAH, RED CLOUD. 

Pink Riuge A(;ency, Dakota, )^ 
I'lNK RrDGE, Nov. 29, 1887. J 
Gay Waters : — J received your paper,* and was glad to get it. 
It made my heart good. I will be in Washington about January 1st, if 
nothing happens. I will be glad to meet you there. I would be glad 
to have one of the books you are now getting up. I am well pleased 
with my new agent. He is a good man. I now shake hands with yon. 
Hoping to see you in Washington, I am 

Your friend, Chief Red Cloud. 

Thy gentle words, Red Cloud, expressive in their ease, 
So kind and gentle in attempt to please, 
Wring from my heart its tears ; But then I trace 
No blush of shame upon the Nation's face! 

Thanks for thy note. Others may chant in song 
America's great Right — I sing of Wrong, 
As darts the angry pen, and leap the words of blame 
Along the glossy page, and I brood o'er thy name. 

I watch thee, Red Cloud. Chuckle and the prey 
Of whites, whose plotting infamy means pay 
Of land — Dakota's rended State — 
To serve the purposes of greed and hate I 

Ah ! — the wide world hath many a weary heart. 
Whose meat and drink at sunset is the dark, 
Dark memories of unrequited wrong. 
The cold, gray moaning of a vesper song. 

* Christian Staiidani, 



REPLY TO NfAHPEALUTAH, RED CLOUD. II7 

Brave out the plot ! Thy great expiring race 
May teach the world a lesson it can trace ; 
Man, through his vast, unnumbered years, 
Is yet the tyrant of his hopes and fears. 

Red Cloud! Around thy name — flash battles won ; 
The scream of mountain eagles near the sun, 
The thunder's voice ; and forests gemmed with stars, 
Flash through the memory's prison bars ! 



AIMEE. 



" I'oor Aimee, who had so much jolly fun in her life, and had kepi 
so many audiences on the jump through long performances, died almost 
alone at a private house in the suburbs of Paris, whither she had gone 
to have a surgical operation performed." — Boston Leader, 



Poor song bird ! thy little life is done 
And others roar the plaudits thou hast won ; 
October rolls her sad winds through the trees 
And dim mists dampen o'er her dying leaves ; 
No ear shall catch thy throbbing roundelay — 
Thy song is o'er, fair minstrel of the gay ! 
The men that laughed have let thee die in pain, 
And " pretty as a picture " is thy fame ! 

Poor singing bird ! There shines a light ! 

Poor singing bird ! Good-night ! Good-night ! 

Poor song bird ! I have heard thee trill 

Thy roundelay till eyes did fill, 

And hearts welled tears of hidden joy 

That bubbled from the souls unknown alloy ! 

And now thy lips are dumb of song and cold 

As frozen years — or things that fold 

Their hands across the flowered lappel of life, 

And sleep in solitude above its strife. 

Poor singing bird ! There shines a light ! 

Poor singing bird ! Good-night ! Good-night ! 



AIMEE. II9 

Poor song bird ! Now the shadows creep 

Above the unknown grave where thou dost sleep ; — 

As on the great world roars without a care 

Of one whose fair notes thrilled the city air ! 

I have not yet forgot — forgot thy song 

That echoed like the woodland's voice along 

The dark curse, and the fierce world's fevered moan — 

To cheer the hearts that love best when alone ! 

Poor singing bird ! There shines a light ! 

Poor singing bird ! Good-night ! Good-night ! 



SIOUX WAR SONG. 

Sioux of the plains, revoke !- — 

They trample on our claims — 
Sioux, prove by sword and stroke 
Ye are not made for chains ! 
Chorus. — Sioux of Brule and Yankton band ! 
> Sioux of Ogalalla band ! 

Up and at the greedy foe ! 

Smite them backward, blow by blow ! 

Adieu ! ye promised treaties ! 
Adieu ! the tyrant's yoke ! 
Strike for our homes and country 

Through battle, blood and smoke ! 
Oh ! aid us in our freedom, 

Ye chiefs whose spirits soar ; 
Drive back the curse of kingdoms, 
And bring liberty once more ! 
Chorus. — Sioux of Brule and Yankton band ! 
Sioux of Ogalalla band ! 
Up and at the greedy foe ! 
Smite them backward, blow by blow ! 



SIOUX MELODIES. 

NARPUJA. 

(Heaven.) 

Beyond where tempests' gleaming sword 
Cuts through and slays the prairie oak ; 

Beyond where cyclones smite the horde, 
Or kill a city with a stroke ! 

Beyond ! beyond the forest's brink, 

Or Rocky Mountain eagle's nest — 
Away ! beyond where sunsets sink, 

The great Sioux has a teepe of rest ! 

WONJOKISICA. 

(Sorrow. ) 

Oh, ye vast plains ! where we have roamed at will- 
Dakota ! — Minnesota ! — and the hills 
That rib the great ridge of this Western World, 
Why are ye melting like the clouds that furl ? 

Stay ! stay ! }'e were our homes ? Forsake us not ! 
We love thee as the seas their native rock ! 
Thy withered leaves — thy prairie voice can calm 
Our spirits more than all this modern charm ! 

To wander on and on — tossed by the wrath 
Of other civilizations o'er our path — 



122 SIOUX MELODIES. 

Our eagles disappearing from their sky, 

The Sioux no country — and crushed out to die ! 

WASTEDAKA. 

(Love.) 

Her eyes were dove-like, and her voice 
A singing bird's ! — a harp of joy ! 

I listened, till my heart rejoiced 
And leaped within, at one so coy ! 

Then in her blush I read her choice — 
' T was me, the Ogallala boy ! 

1 sat beside her father's teepe, 

And gazed upon her pouting lips, 

And wondered if she 'd ever seek 
To kiss me with those crimson tips ! 

Till, oh ! she looked as pure and sweet 
As flowers abud the prairie's cheek ! 

1 brought ten ponies to the chief, 
Her father, and I tied them there ; 

And we were married by his leave — 

And Love knew naught of anxious Care, 

And Joy was ignorant of (jrief, 
And Happiness was everywhere ! 

ODOWAN. 

(The Poet.) 

He sang 1 The four winds stayed their flight, 
And paused to hear his mighty rhyme ; 



SIOUX MELODIES. 123 

And spirits through the moaning night 

Re-sang aloud his solemn line ! 
The buffalo grew tame, and stood 

Listening through the shadowed wood ! 

WAWAN, BA-JAN. 

(Sioux Gift Song and Pipe Dance.) 

Leader. 
Hark ! The drum taps ! Pull off the moccasin, 
The earth is holy — it must know no sin ! — 
See ! — kinnikinick ! The Hin-zpe-tha-bthin 
Wa-ha-ba ! — In-gthan-ga-ha I-ha-the-wa-an, 
Paint a red circle on each breast, and let the dance begin; 
The pipes shall pass and gifts shall crown the day, 
And buffalo robes for horses be our pay ! 

First \\ arrior. 
When a pipe like this was brought to me, I gave : 

Three horses ! 

Second Warrior. 
Roll up the round corn sticks, and dance about the 
fire ; I give : 

Four horses ! 

Third Warrior. 
Move as with eagles' wings — advance — return, I give : 

Five horses ! 

Fourth Warrior. 
Sway the pipes and sound the drum as I now give : 

Six horses ! 



124 SIOUX MELODIES. 

Fifth Warrior. 

The challenge pipe is moving on, as now I give : 

Seven horses ! 

Sixth Warrior. 

When a pipe like that was brought to me, I gave : 

Eight horses ! 
And now our eagle wings are stretched, I dance and 

give: 

Nine horses ! 

Count the horses on the pipe, for now I give : 

Ten horses ! 
Keep up the dance on each side of the fire, as I gi\'e: 

Twenty horses ! 
Sing the first and second part, as I now give : 

Thirty horses ! 
Now all advance, return as in a double line : 

Forty horses ! 
As I exceed you all, I take the pipe again : 

Fifty horses ! 

THE EAGLE WAR BONNET. 

Wicota's war bonnet was found in the grass, 

Heya ! Heya I 
And his totem lost near the great elk pass ; 

Heya ! Heya ! 
And his challenge pipe 'neath the boughs of the wood, 

Heya ! Heya ! 
And his war knife hid where the buffalo stood. 

Heya ! Heya ! 



SIOUX MELODIES. 12$ 

VV^icota was filled with minni-wakan ; "'^ 

Hey a ! Hey a ! 

He slept, and he woke, and the s^'aj man ran. 

Hey a ! Hey a ! 
Hevvare ! Beware of the s/ca man's rum, 

Heya ! Hey a ! 
I'^or the shi man stole his pony and gun. 

Heya ! Heya ! 

WIKOSKA. 

(The Sioux Maid.) 

Thy glance, like the sunlight that pierces the shade, 
As it gleams through the morning in crimson and 
gold. 

Can brighten a heart where the shadows have laid, 
And whisper a love which is still uncontrolled ! 

.\t night comes a vision of forests and bars, 

A sweet light shines down through the cloud-parted 

eaves ; 
And I fancy the round moon is lighting her stars, 
Bzit 'lis thy face that shines down through the leaves ! 

The big chief that eats of the cherries and links ; 

The warriors, and eyes of the Great of the Nook, 
All follow you now, as the fawn that doth drink 

In the cool of the eve from the lip of the brook ! 

But old priests have told me that evil will 'tide 
To the heart, if, like oak-leaves, its promises fall ; 



■;« Whiskey, 
f White man. 



126 SIOUX MELODIES. 

And that maids of the buffalo scatter and hide, 
If the four winds refuse to obey at their call ! 

IVAKIPAPAPI. 

(Sioux War Whoop.) 

Ska* men, surrender! 

Or leave us our homes ! 
We ask no defender 

A teepe or a throne ! 

Now yield to the right, 
As the treaty doth call, 

Ere warriors fight 
And warriors fall ! 

We have given thee land, 
Where the crimson of day 

Hath flashed on thy strand, 
And rc-gilded thy clay ! 

Scalps of thy freemen. 
All bloody with life ! 

Ska men and demons. 
Beware of our knife ! 

WOKIYAPI CANDUHUFA. 

(The Peace Pipe.) 

Ah ! the treaty begun 
Doth show us its hand — 

Ska * men from rising sun 
Call for our land ! 

■''' Americans. 



SIOUX MELODIES. 127 

I'eace pipe of the prairies, 

Covered o'er with dust, 
Can forget unfairness 

In a promise trust. 

Sway the pipe, and ask them 

If they will be men — 
Tme to God and promise — 

Tnie to word and pen ! 



THE DAWES SIOUX RILL 



The N^ational Indian Defense Association , 

IJelieviug that the act which has^ust become a law, and which author- 
izes the President to allot lands of Indian tribes to individual Indians 
without the consent of the tribes, and even against their protest, is uncon- 
stitutional as well as tnijust and despotic, and that if it is allowed to stand 
and be enforced, the Indian will be despoiled of the bulk of their best 
lands, and deprived from the protection of their /;77'a/ governments and 
of their tribal rig-/its at once, and that soon after the lands allotted shall 
have become alienable, the majority of tite Indians will be induced to part 
with the small tracts which have been issued to them ; and, in the language 
of Senator Dolph, of Oregon, in respect to this bill, " We shall have <t 
quarter of a million Indians thrown upon the country as paupers to be sup 
ported by appropriations from the public treasury" is resolved to defeml 
the Indians in the rights ,^uaranteed to them under the Constitution of the 
United States. We do not believe that Congress would ceppropriate money 
for the support of the Indians after they had lost all tribal o7-ganizations 
and treaty rights as tribes and become citizens of the United States, and 
of the various States and Territories. They would have no more con- 
sideration from the Government than other citizens. Should they be- 
come tramps, or paupers, they would be treated no better than other tramps 
and paupers. Believing that the practical and general enforcement of 
this severalty bill would result as stated above, we are resolved to do all 
in our power to prevent its being applied to the various Indian tribes. 

On the first Monday of December, a new Congress will convene. 
It is our purpose to ask this new Congress to repeal the objectionable fea- 
tures of the law. 

In the meantime it is our purpose to keep vigilant watch, and if 
any attempt should be made by the Government to take the land of any 
tribe of Indians from the tribe, under the provisions of this act, with- 
out the consent of the tribe, then, in that case, the Association will tender 
the services of its attorney to such tribe, and, if his services shall be 
accepted, an effort will be made to secure a decision as to the constitu 
tionality of the act from the Supreme Court of the United States. 



THE DAWES SIOUX BILL. 1 29 

We believe that the- United States courts would afford the Indians 
protection against the provisions of this act, and we believe that if it 
come before the Supreme Court of the United States for a decision, 
that tribunal would pronounce this act unconstitutional and void. It 
will be remembered that in 1879 Chief Standing Bear, of the Ponca 
tribe of Indians, appealed successfully to the United States Court against 
the injustice and tyranny of the Executive Department of the Govern- 
ment. This precedent, and numerus decisions of the United States 
courts, in cases involving rights of Indians, give us reason to hope and 
believe that if we should be obliged to appeal to the courts against the 
enforcements of this unjust and despotic act of Congress, the appeal 
would be successful. 

We therefore ask all who desire that the Indians be defended and 
protected in their rights, to sustain as with their influence and their 
means. 

Byron Sunderland, President. 

Alex. Kent, Vice-President. 

Wm. M. King, Secretary. 

Away ! Athwart the foam the Mayflower rides, 
And civiHzation breasts the New World's tides ; 
Her keel grates loudly on the New-found shore, 
The moral of an age that lived before. 

Our pilgrims kneel before the Plymouth Rock, 
And covenant with God to stand the shock ; 
Then rise from off their knees, and grasp the hand- 
Of Friendship's welcome to his native land. 

As Commerce leaped the plank, and sought the new- 
found shore, 
And War suppressed the brutal cannon's roar ; 
And patriots, leaving Tyranny behind, 
Proclaimed the liberty of limb and mind. 

Greed from the hatchways paused with eager eyes, 
Theft from the rigging watched the chances fly ; 



130 THE DAWES SIOUX BILL. 

Ambition blew his trumpet-note in air, 
Hypocrisy knelt low in mumbled prayer. 

My God ! New cabins rise upon the shore, 
Bones of two races crimsoned o'er with gore ! 
A sword hath laid the sons of friendship low, 
And fought back love and justice blow for blow. 

Two hundred thousand of these men now wronged, 
Chained to a curse — a hundred years prolonged ! 
America ! Thy hand hath shed more blood 
Than history can mingle in her flood ! 

Now spoilers pour from every land and sea, 
New emigrants from vanished liberty. 
And on the land of redmen build their homes, 
Where Plenty feeds the Chippewa with bones. 

And is this Progress f that across the land 
Walks so triumphant with her clenched hand? 
That builds new cities out of human tears, 
And wrecks humanity with all its fears? 

A progress scattering, 'mid oaths ane dust, 

The sweetest hopes humanity can trust ? 

O God ! weigh thou this progress in thy mighty scales, 

And tell the centuries the bloody tales. 

Tell! tell! the wrongs of years! Retell to coming man, 
In terms precise, the infamy, the sham. 
Of all that rears its soaring ivealth and hotnes 
Above tivo Imndrcd thousand red men s bones ! 



POOR YET RICH. 

All money gone ! Ha ! ha ! Poor pocket-book, 

As dry and shriveled as a spinster's look ! 

Yet Love is left ! — the sweet, responsive eye. 

The heart that beats, those lips that laugh and cry ; 

The rounded breast, the arm that doth enfold 

The joys of youth within its dream of gold ; 

Thy summer voice, the velvet diadem 

Of honored passion, and the songs of men ! 



THE SIOUX CHILD'S FUNERAL. 

" What doest thou within the tribe? 
Beware the scalp-man's Avrath!" 
It was an old man of the tribe, 
Athwart the forest path. 

" A meeting at the Great Ghost tent 
Was hailed without delay ; 
The little deeds the dead hath lent 
Have been proclaimed to-day ! 

" A warrior's child hath died," he said ; 
" We smoked the Shadow-pipe, 
And cut the front lock of its hair 
And gave the warrior's wife. 

" She wrapped it in a red, red cloth. 
And kissed it undisturbed ; 
And we sat there and thought of prayer. 
But uttered not a word. 

" Then buried deep above an hill, 
Above the forest tramp, 
Two yards of red cloth in one part — 
A prayer for the camp ! 

" Next lifted up, with priestly hands, 
To our crreat buffalo. 



THE SIOUX CHILD S FUNERAL. I 3^ 

Two yards of red cloth in one part — 
An offering for our woe, 

* ' We placed the child within an hide ; 
Its soul was lingering near, 
And, like a shadow, followed us 
And stood beside the bier ! 

^' An offering to Nature's God — 
The body of our dead ; — 
And then a resurrection sun 
Was painted on its head ! 

" In its best clothes it lay there — cold 
As drift of winter's snow ; 
We heard along the forest aisles 
Its young voice come and go. 

" We did not lay it in the ground 
Amid the clammy clay, 
But lifted it where stars bend down 
To kiss the lips of day ! 

" Within the arms of mighty oak 
We tied it to a limb ; 
We fancied'it would like to hear 
The wood-birds' summer hvmn !" 



TAKU WAKAN WOKANZE. 
(fate.) 

Fierce with the tempests of unnumbered years, 
Fate's ocean rolls ! Joys, sorrows, reappear ; 
With passions uncontrolled and hints of shores 
Unpeopled by a populace of bores. 
As heaven whirls its dread — astrologfy — 
And hurls immortals through the mystery — 
On ! on ! it rolls ! Far 'neath the sky of Time, 
Dashing its sea-thoughts in the poet's rhyme. 

Ah ! wonder if the majesty of mind 

Shall soar the clouds of all this arch of Time ? 

Alas ! Out ! out ! — from out the vanished years 

Still moan the griefs of man's unpitied fears. 

And great minds think but to the grave — the curse 

And passing menace of the universe. 

Man still the captive of his shroud — a day — 

The sunbeam of an hour — a quick decay! 



CHEYENNE SCHOOL-DAYS. 

[It is common for Indian girls to choose Christian names of their 
own, while retaining their fathers' names, for the sake of family distinc- 
tion. The grotesque combination is illustrative of the transition state 
of the families.] 

As echoes from the thunder-clouds 

Re-tell the playsome rain, 
Hattie Lone Wolf's laughter brings 

Those school-hours back again ! 

As white stars on the threshing-floors 

Of prairies in the night, 
Alice Lone Bear s lips disclose 

Her teeth — a flash of light ! 

As evening, with a thornless rose, 

Her native smile of earth, 
Gertrude White Cloud' s warbled song 

Still dimples with its mirth ! 

Ha ! Katy White Bird' s raven tress 

Still flowing as the morn 
Above the prairie's wilderness, 

Before the noon is born ! 

And one is not — I will not name — 

The rose is scattered nozv — 
Remember not her hour of shame — 

The dark cloud on her brow ! 

'35 



TWO CENTURIES OF WOE. 

The first preacher to the Indians of America was Rev. John Elliot, 
an Englishman (Episcopal), born in Essex, England, who began preach- 
ing for the Indians at 40 years of age, October 28, 1646. He formed 
the first Indian church in America at Natick ; began translating the 
Scriptures, and in 1661 the New Testament was printed. Two hun- 
dred copies, bound in leather, were prepared for the immediate use of 
the Indians of the Atlantic sea-board, in 1673, ^^ which time six Indian 
churches had been formed. The following is given as the number of 
praying (Christian) Indians, by Judge Davis, in a note to Morton's 
Memorial, 1674: 

In Massachusetts, under the preaching of Rev. John Elliot. 1,100 

In Plymouth colony, under the preaching of Rev. Burns. . . 530 

On Nantucket 300 

Martha's Vineyard 1,500 

Total 3,400 

In King Philip's ( Indian 1 War, the-e 3,400 Indians were made pris- 
oners, and for years afterwards were held as such. King Philip's wife 
and son (Indians) were sold as slaves in the West Indies. A number 
were sent to be sold elsewhere, but found no purchasers, and were left 
at Tangiers, Africa. — [Facts j^atkerfd as scribbled on the fly-leaf of an old 
Sioux Missionary s Santee Vocabulary.'}^ 

The Secretary of the American Interior, Hon. Lamar, says in his 

REPORT OF DECEMBER, 1887, 

"The statistics compiled from the annual reports of the various 
United States Indian agents to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, rep- 
resent that of the remaining 173,600 Indians under their supervision, 
about fifty-eight thousand wear citizens' clothes wholly; that 16,477 
houses are occupied by them ; that about twenty-five thousand can 
speak English with sufficient intelligence for ordinary conversation ; 
that more than ten thousand five hundred of their children are in 

schools receiving educational and industrial training, for whom 237 
X36 



TWO CENTURIES OF WOE. 1 37 

schools are in operation, and that over 31,000 families are engaged in 
industrial pursuits. They have cultivated over 238,000 acres, built over 
295,000 rods of fencing, produced over 750,000 bushels of wheat, 950,- 
000 bushels of corn, 402,000 bushels of oats, 68,000 bushels of barley 
and rye, 514,000 bushels of vegetables, and 83,000 pounds of butter. 
Besides the above, they have gathered for use and sale considerable 
quantities of wild rice, berries, herbs, furs, fish, and snake root, etc. 
They have sawed 1,552,079 feet of lumbei-, cut 74,000 cords of wood 
and 102,000 tons of hay. They own over 392,000 horses, 3,000 mules, 
113,000 cattle, 46,000 swine, and 1,120,000 sheep. Droughts have 
seriously affected the yield of their crops the past year. While these 
results are generally gratifying, they fall far shoit of guaranteeing an 
early consummation of our policy of a complete Indian civilization. 
And I can only reiterate the conviction expressed in former reports, 
that the Indian race has reached a crisis in its history. Surrounded on 
all sides by the forces of civilization ; all the reservations closed in and 
pressed upon by ever-increasing masses of population, made up of im- 
petuous, daring and aggressive settlers, miners, ranchmen and traders; 
with no possibility of removal to other reservations or of escape into 
mountain fastnesses, the only alternative presented to the Indian race 
is absolute extinction or a quick entrance into the pale of American 
civilization." 

Two hundred years ! — and still the curse rolls on — 

The thirst for land — the blasphemy of right ; 
The slavery of freedom and the wrong 

That rolls discordant through these years of night. 
Years ! years ! of bloodshed, slavery and crime, 
Unknown before in all the woes of time — 
Till the heart, dry to its inner core 
And love the bitterness it loathed before ; — 
Crushing the passions of the better man 
And counts his promises — a lying sham ! 
We have been slaves for full two hundred years, 
And drenched a continent with blood and tears ; 
Besought, entreated, treaties signed in vain, 
And crouched like beasts beneath the load of pain. 



138 TWO CENTURIES OF WOE. 

Ah ! Tell us not of progress — that demands 
The mourning of a race, the curse of man, 
The lowering of self-hood and the truth — 
A dungeon curse for age and playful youth ! 
Steam cannot buy the grandeur of a soul. 
And man is man vvhate'er the ages roll ; 
Electric lights may daze a world with awe. 
Yet man be morally without a law ! 
A tyrant to the grave, and just as mean — 
A dog at heart — an angel in his mien ! 
A polished pimp — the idiot of a pen — 
The perjured instrument of other men ! 



LIFE OF RED CLOUD. 

Mah-peah-Lutah (Red Cloud) is a fullblooded Dakota 
or Sioux Indian. He was born near the present site of 
Fort Laramie, about 1824. His father, whose name 
he bears, was head chief of the Ogalala tribe of the 
Dakota Confederacy or Nation, comprising seven 
tribes. Red Cloud being a younger son, his older 
brother was heir apparent to the chieftainship ; but on 
the death of the father the older brother, whose name 
we have been unable to get, declined the office in favor 
of Red Cloud, on the ground of his superior talents 
and general fitness for the position. The matter was 
laid before the Council, and, after discussion. Red 
Cloud was accepted as the successor of his father. He 
was then about thirty years of age, and had already 
distinguished himself by his speeches in Council. 
The Dakotas was then a great nation, owning a vast 
empire, including what is now Dakota and Wyoming 
and a good portion of Minnesota ; indeed, Minnesota is 
a Dakota word meaning Land of Lakes. 

The Sioux war of 1862 was confined to Minnesota. 
That involved only one tribe — the Santee Sioux. The 
great Sioux War of '64-'67 between the tribes of Da- 
kota and Wyoming, served to bring Red Cloud to 
public notice in a pronounced way. At all Councils 
between the representatives of the United States and 
the Sioux Nation, Red Cloud represented his tribe. 
Many of his young men were in the Sioux army for 



140 LIFE OF RED CLOUD. 

years, however, before he took active command. He 
desired peace, and until the winter of iS66-'6y he did 
not lose hope of securing a treaty of peace which 
would be in a measure just to his people. But in a 
council at Fort Laramie, held December, 1866, or 
January. 1867, his ultimatum was finally rejected by the 
United States Commissioners, and Red Cloud at once 
took chief command of his forces and made a most 
vigorous campaign. Before leaving the Council he 
said: "I have done all that I could to stop this war, but 
I am now convinced that you do not want peace on just 
terms ; henceforth I shall rely upon the Great Spirit, 
and my trusty rifle." About a year after he made that 
speech Red Cloud was invited to another Council with a 
commission of which General Sherman was chairman, 
and he was offered terms in perfect accord with his ul- 
timatum ot a year before. He signed this treaty 
(known as the treaty of 1868, because ratified in that 
year), and he has kept it in letter and spirit faithfulh' 
to this day. But we regret to be obliged, as a just his. 
torian, to say that the United States has but very par- 
tially fulfilled its part of that treaty. 

In the spring of 1868, Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, 
Old Man Afraid of his Horse, Swift Bear, American 
Horse, Red Dog, and a number of other Sioux Chiefs, 
visited Washington on invitation of President Johnson- 
They also visited Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, 
by invitation of the authorities of those cities. Red 
Cloud then dressed as an Indian Chieftain of the first 
rank, and presented a very imposing though savage ap- 
pearance. Now and for several years past he dresses 
like any other civilized man, and his bearing and man- 
ners are those of a gentleman. Hon. Alonzo Bell, late 



LIFE OF RED CLOUD. I4I 

Assistant Secretary of the Interior Department, says 
of him, "I have met Red Cloud in council often, and 
I regard him the intellectual peer of any man in the 
United States Senate, and as a diplomat and statesman 
he has few equals. I desire to add that I regard him 
as a man of the strictest integrity and highest sense of 
honor. I am proud to be able to count him among 
my personal friends." Secretar)- Lamar says of a 
brief impromptu speech of Red Cloud, addressed to 
him, "It was one of the best specimens of eloquence 
to which I ever listened." President Cleveland speaks 
of his speeches in complimentary terms. Hon. G. W. 
Manypenny, formerly Commissioner of Indian Affairs, 
and Chairman of the Sioux Commission of 1876, has a 
high regard for Red Cloud. He believes him to be a 
man who has the welfare of his people at heart, and is 
anxious that they should advance in the road to civili- 
zation. He says, " Red Cloud is a man of honor and 
integrity, as well as of superior intellectual and rare 
executive ability." 

Fordyce Grinnell, M. D., of Newport, R. I., who 
was for some years U. S. Surgeon at Pine Ridge 
Agency, says of Chief Red Cloud, "I have heard from 
the pulpit eulogies upon men who, sustained by Chris- 
tian faith, have borne wrongs with meekness, but I defy 
the recent annals of the Church to furnish a case sur- 
passing that of Red Cloud, enduring, as he has, with 
stoical fortitude for years, wrongs and insults that cry 
to heaven for vengeance. I refer to the persecutions 
and insults heaped upon the Chief by the United States 
Agent." 

That Red Cloud has a keen sense of humor is 
proven by the fact that when the organ of Acquisitive- 



142 LIFE OF RED CLOUD. 

ness was explained to him, his eye twinkled with fun 
as he said, "I think that is the biggest organ in the 
white man's head." 

It is perhaps proper to state that the examination 
was made during the Chiefs visit to Washington, last 
year, and notes taken at the time with a view to future 
publication, by Dr. T. A. Bland. 

Red Cloud has visited Washington as the represent- 
ative of his people eight different times in eighteen 
years. Some of these visits have been brief, while on 
other occasions he has spent months at the Capital, in 
conference with the President, Secretary of Interior, 
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, and the committees of 
Congress. For some years the United States Agent 
sent to his people has not had the confidence of Red 
Cloud or his people. The Chief has asked the former 
administration to remove him, and send them a better 
man. To quote his words, "They would not hear" 
him. Soon after the inauguration of President Cleve- 
land, the chief proceeded to Washington, accompanied 
by his interpreter. He spent two months in the city, 
as the guest of Dr. T. A. Bland, editor of the Council 
Fire, the well-known organ of the Quaker Indian Pol- 
icy. He was treated with distinguished consideration 
by the President and other officials, and by the best 
society people of the Capital city. Numerous recep- 
tions were tendered him, and on all occasions he bore 
himself with the modesty of an American gentleman 
and the dignity of a prince of royal blood. 

Chief Red Cloud is a wise Indian. He has the 
pride of race common to his people. He holds in 
great respect the traditional history of the Dakotas, and 
the political, social and religious customs of his race ; 



LIFE OF RED CLOUD. 143 

yet he recognizes and accepts the fact that, to quote 
his words, "The days of the Indian are gone. His 
hunting-grounds are blotted out, his path is fenced in 
by the white man. There is no longer any room in this 
country for the Indian. He must become a white man 
or die. My ancestors once owned this whole country. 
They were then a proud people. Now this country 
belongs to people who came from beyond the sea. 
They are so numerous that we could not take our 
country from them if we should try. They have 
blotted out the Indian trail, and in its place they have 
made a new road. We must travel with them in this 
new road. I have been walking in the white man's 
road for many years. I ask my people to follow me. 
We were all created by the same Great Spirit, and we 
draw our subsistence from our common mother, 
nature ; we are alike in all respects except the color 
of our skin. We have always traveled different roads ; 
from now on we must travel even. We must build our 
two houses into one, and hereafter live together like 
brothers. "—Z?r. T. A. Bland, N. I. D. A. 



OPINION OF THE AMERICAN PHRENOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, 
CONCERNING RED CLOUD's MENTAL ORGANISM. 

The head is large, measuring twenty-three and a 
half inches around and fifteen from ear to ear over the 
top. The organs of the social group in the brain are 
marked in the chart as follows : Amativeness large, 
Philoprogenitiveness large. Adhesiveness very large. 
Inhabitiveness very large. He is therefore strong in 
his attachments to home, friends, wife and children. 
In the executive region we find Combativeness less 



144 LIFE or RED CLOUD. 

developed ^.than Destructiveness or Secretiveness ; 
hence he is naturally pacific, yet possessing the quali- 
ties of the successful warrior. He would never go on 
the war-path through personal ambition or revenge, 
but as a patriotic duty he would fight to the death. 
Self-esteem is large, and Approbativeness but mode- 
rate, giving dignity and independence of character, 
self-respect and self-confidence. Firmness is large, as 
shown by the height of the head ; hence the character 
is stable, and with large Conscientiousness and a fair 
degree of Hope, we have a man of high purpose, 
fixed convictions, unyielding devotion to what he be- 
lieves to be right and duty. The perceptive organs, as 
in the aboriginal head generally, are all large, forming 
a beetling cliff above the eyes. Few things worth see- 
ing escape the observation of this man, and his judg- 
ment of things is quick and broad. His Language is 
evidently active — see the eye expression — and as an 
orator he is logical, forcible, somewhat poetic, but not 
wordy or especially rhetorical. He is eloquent, but 
his eloquence does not depend on rhetorical arts ; it is 
of the multjun in pari'o sort, simple yei strong, the 
kind of oratory which comes direct from a full heart, 
through an active and strong brain, and goes direct as 
a plumed arrow to the brains and hearts o^ auditors. 



DR. BYRON SUNDERLAND ON THE SIOUX 
SEVERALTY BILL. 

" We believe it is a measure fundamentally wrong 
in its principle and in the method which it proposes, 
and we protest against it, for many reasons. 

" I. Because it is a usurpation. The bill itself con- 
cedes that the lands which it proposes to survey, divide, 
and allot belong to the tribes that occupy them, and 
Congress has no right but the right of the strongest to 
pass a law authorizing the Government to go on to 
these lands and do the sovereign acts which this biU 
proposes. This kind of legislation is the abomination 
which has all along disgraced our historyi, and which we 
wish to see abandoned now and forever. This one con- 
sideration should be enough to blast the bill in the 
mind of every man who regards vested rights, the 
sanctity of solemn treaty pledges, and the dictates of 
natural justice. 

"2. Because if it were morally sound in principle 
and in harmony with our Constitution and existing 
rights, as interpreted by the highest courts of the land, 
it \s premature. The Indians to be affected by this bill 
are i7i no condition to assume the responsibilities of citi" 
zenship. All the trials thus far of the land-in-severalty 
principle with the Indians in their savage or semi-bar- 
barous state have been miserable and acknowledged 
failures ; they have become wretched paupers and beg- 
gars — dependent solely pn th^ uncertain charity of the 



146 Sunderland's strictures. 

Government — and should this bill become a law the 
same wretched consequences, even on a larger scale, 
would follow its attempted execution. 

"3. Because it is a proposed abandomiicnt of the 
reservation system, and with this all treaty obligations, 
all recognition of tribal relations, and all the solemn 
promises made to the Indians in our dealings with them 
heretofore. The last section of the bill, which is not 
the amendment proposed by the Indian Defense Asso- 
ciation, simply provides that no reservation shall be abol- 
ished without the consent of a majority of the male 
members over twenty-one years of age — this does not 
affect at all the acts of the Government provided for in 
the previous sections of this bill. It is put in here to 
make the bill seem just and fair to the Indians, but in 
reality it is a viere blind, and utterly without effect on 
the other provisions of the bill. 

* ' 4. Because it is discriminative in the worse sense of 
the term. Why are the five nations and other tribes 
and bands mentioned in Sec. 8 excepted from the appli- 
cation of these provisions ? They are, beyond all ques- 
tion, the best prepared for taking their lands in sever- 
alty and for the ordeal of citizenship. Why should the 
bill be made to apply alone to all those Indians who are 
least prepared for a change so sudden and radical ? It 
looks very much as if the friends of the bill were say- 
ing to themselves and the world, we are tired of our 
bargain to take care of savages, to educate and main- 
tain them according to our promises, and we propose 
now to throw it up and force these savages on to farms 
and into citizenship, and say to them * root hog or 
die.' 

"5. Because it is deceptive — the one instance of the 



SUNDERLAND S STRICTURES. 1 47 

trust feature for twenty-five years, or for an indefinite 
period in the discretion of the executiv^e, is sufficient 
proof of its illusory character. To say nothing of the 
assumption of Congress in authorizing the Government 
to create a trust upon property which does not belong 
to it — the trust period itself as regulated in this bill is 
a hocus pocus. In saying this I do not desire to ques- 
tion the motives of its authors, but none the less is it a 
deception, and will prove itself such if the bill becomes a 
law. Its avowed object is to protect the Indians and 
prevent their lands from being alienated for a term of 
years or an indefinite period. But in attempting to do 
this it assumes an arbitrary and despotic trust of prop- 
erty which does not belong to it. It disregards all 
tribal obligations, forces allotments on individual Indians 
without their consent, disintegrates the reservations, and 
deprives the Indians of all proprietary rights in their 
own lands and makes them mere life-tenants, with no 
other control over their property for an indefinite period 
in the discretion of the executive. A more skillful 
robbery I think was never planned. 

"6. Because it creates a large nuuibcr of agents to 
be appointed to carry out its provisions, thus multiply- 
ing the chances for fraud in riie selection of lands, for 
various swindling jobs and peculations, for creating 
dissensions among the Indians themselves and arousing 
and augmenting their suspicions as to the designs of 
the Government, as well as to the schemes of the land- 
sharks, who are forever hovering about them. Judging ■* 
the future by the past, some of these agents, at least, 
will foment jealousies — assume unwarranted authority — 
and create confusion in all the reservations. Are there 
not agents enough already? Why multiply the prob 



148 Sunderland's strictures. 

abilities of friction and complication in a problem 
already loaded with more difficulties than the Govern- 
ment seems able to handle ! 

"7. Because the scheme in the premises appears 
to be peacefully impracticable. It is true, the Supreme 
Court has said that an action of ejection would hold in 
the courts upon an Indian title ; but the Indian is ex- 
cluded from the courts, or would be practically so, if 
he refused to comply with the provisions of this bill. 
He could do nothing by legal process to prevent this 
high act of trespass. This bill leaves it with the exec- 
utive to say when upon any reservation the surveys 
shall be made and allotments enforced. But the very 
first surveyor who shall go upon these lands will be 
looked upon by the Indians as a trespasser, and will be 
likely to be treated accordingly. This will bring on 
collision with the Government, and end in an Indian 
war ; and so the United States may extinguish the In- 
dian title and many of the Indians themselves, as it 
has often done before, by the sword. Can anything be 
more despotic than thus to provoke hostilities, and 
then crush the weaker party with an iron heel? 

" 8. Because the bill is chiefly in the interest of white 
men — the Indians being objects of secondary import- 
ance. This, no doubt, is why so large a proportion of 
the public press, which is the mere tool of syndicates, 
charter companies, and stock-jobbing schemes of all 
sorts, are so loudly shouting for the passage of this 
bill. They see it exactly opens the door to them for a 
very large field of operation, and so it suits their pur- 
pose to urge on the corps of professed friends of the 
Indians to spare no efforts to secure this legislation. 
We object to it on general principles. Every session 



SUNDERLAND S STRICTURES. 1 49 

of Congress is flooded with schemes of all kinds in re- 
lation to the Indians, so that they have learned to dread 
the assembling of the National Legislature — not know- 
ing what new proposal will be set on foot to agitate and 
disturb them. The bill is but another of the many 
schemes which will tend to render them restless and 
uncertain. It is a measure proposed in addition to 
that species of legislation which has for a long time 
impeded the progress of the Indians. It is in the face 
of all past experience. It will not tend to secure the 
confidence of the Indians in the Government's design 
towards them ; and there is no intelligent person at this 
time who does not know that these Indians are not 
prepared for the ordeal to which this bill will subject 
them. 

" 9. And again because, so far as we know, no In- 
dian tribes or bands have signified to Congress their 
desire for the passage of such a bill as this. It appears 
to be a spontaneous movement on the part of the 
Christian philanthropists — and who are standing at 
their elbows, it would not be hard to guess. Does any 
man believe that this great clamor would have crystal- 
lized into such a severalty bill as this, if the white man 
had not arrived at a point in his movements where he 
wants these lands, and is determined, sooner or later, 
to have them, whether the Indians consent or not ! It 
is this hell-fire greed in the white man ; this monstrous 
covetousness ; this Behemoth of rapacity which can not 
be satisfied till it has grasped the possessions of the 
Indians and driven them to the wall, that we deplore ; 
and we say, let it stop here and now. Banish these 
schemes from Congress. Let us fulfill the obligations 
we have already incurred. Let us convince the Indians 



150 SUNDERLAND -S STRICTURES. 

that we are true to our word. Let us have no more 
legislation for the next ten years but such as shall tend 
to carry out already existing treaties and such appro- 
priations of money as may be necessary to keep good 
faith. What these Indians need most of all to-day, is 
immunity from harassment. Give them peace and 
rest. Give them time for education. Pay them their 
just dues. Treat them honestly in all respects, and 
wait patiently till they are prepared of their own accord 
to ask for citizenship and severalty. When they have, 
by such a course, been brought to see the light, a way 
may be devised by vhich they can gradually of tlieir 
own free will, be absorbed into the great mass of citi- 
zens, and become an element of stability in the institu- 
tions of the country. 

" Much more might be said upon this Indian prob- 
lem, but I forbear. Notwithstanding our opposition, 
this bill may become a law. If it should prove a curse 
rather than a blessing, the responsibility will not rest 
upon us. We have done what we could to prevent it, 
and we shall be disturbed by no unavailing regret that 
we have aided in establishing a policy which is likely 
to defeat the very aims its friends so loudly proclaim." 



COL. G. W. HARKINS, OF THE CHICKASAWS, 
ON THE DAWES BILL. 

' ' Why are such radical changes in our statutes 
sought to be made, as are contemplated in the 
Dawes Severalty Bill ? Why such haste to force 
the Indians to take their lands as individuals ? There 
can be but one answer. It is because the white 
man covets the Indians' lands, railroad companies 
and mobs of boomers are clamoring to be allowed 
to dispossess the Indians of the last remnant of 
their inheritance. Why are those tribes who are 
more nearly on the plane of the white man excepted 
from the operation of the severalty bill, and the unciv- 
ilized and untutored subjected to its provisions? *Is it 
not because the civilized tribes claim their rights and 
would resist invasion by every legal and peaceable 
means, while the other tribes can make no resistance, 
now that they are convinced that they can no longer 
right their wrongs by war ? Their sole hope now lies 
in this Indian Defense Association. It is said that the 
Indians still have too much land. Is it a crime for an 
Indian tribe to hold more land than its people can use 
at once, but all of which will be needed for its increas- 
ing population ? Then why not declare it a crime for 
corporations to own and hold for speculation large bod- 
ies of land, and why allow foreigners to buy up and 
hold vast estates in this country ? Indeed, why not 
say that it is an outrage on those who have no homes 



152 COL. HARKINS ON DAWES BILL. 

for a rich farmer to own more land than he can culti- 
vate or to hold land for his children and grandchildren ? 
There is no scarcity of public land open to the people 
at nominal prices ; then why this clamor for the Indians' 
lands? But while it is proposed to divide a small part 
of the Indians' lands among them and make them citi- 
zens, it is not in the plan to give them fee-simple titles. 
On the contrary, the scheme is to take the title from 
the tribe and vest it in the Government, and simply give 
the poor Indian a promise that after a long time, 
twenty-five years, or as much longer as his good, hon- 
est guardian, who has always broken every promise it 
ever made him, shall deem best, he shall have a title 
to his little farm. May we be delivered from such 
promises. 

"It is claimed that this bill is indorsed by many 
friends of the Indians, and that those friends of our 
race believe that it is the only plan for saving any of 
our lands to us. We would ask such friends to study 
the history of the tribes of Indian Territory. Under 
tribal title they have become civilized and self-support- 
ing. They have elected governments, established 
schools, built churches, and developed the industries 
common to civilization. We have done all this in the 
face of many obstacles. The war between the States 
swept over our country like a cyclone, and left its insti- 
tutions in ruins. We have recovered from that disaster. 
Would it not be sound policy to give other tribes a 
chance to do as we have done ? These tribes have 
patents to the whole of the land, and every member of 
the tribe is secure in the possession of a home. The 
severalty plan has been tried on a number of tribes, and 
always failed. But thCvSe historic facts have no weight 



COL. HARKINS ON DAWFS BILL. 1 53 

with those »vvho, under pretense of friendship for the 
Indian, concoct measures in the interest of the white 
man. My friends, this Government of ours represents 
the white man as. against the Indian. In 1830, when 
the U. S. Commissioners were negotiating with the 
Choctaws for their lands on the Mississippi, the mis- 
sionaries who had h'ved among those people and were 
their friends, were not allowed to enter the council, lest 
they might thwart the schemes of the Government. 

In conclusion, I desire to say that if the various 
tribes could be assured of security in possession of their 
reservations, and could have good schools for their 
children, and be taught and encouraged in the simple 
arts of civil life, they would all become civilized, self- 
supporting people, and in due time citizens of the 
United States, and owners of their homes in severalty. 
But those who are personally interested in schools off 
the reservation are opposed to the plan of educating 
Indian children at home. So at every point we cross 
some selfish interest. 




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